


Promises Under the Influence

by chains_archivist



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Boy/Boy sex, Boys in Chains, Language, Lemon, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 29,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3457676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By Amanda F</p><p>Duo exacts a promise from Heero under the influence of alcohol. It's a dark downward spiral for everyone when he breaks it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

"Itai!!!" Alcohol sloshed onto the gnarled living-room carpet as Duo toppled onto his back. A stream of incoherent curses bubbled up from beneath the coffee-table until the red-faced pilot surfaced. "Bastard!" Duo furiously snatched the tip of his braid from Heero's fist. "Hands off the hair! You promised you wouldn't do that, remember??"  
  
"A promise exacted under the influence of alcohol," Heero returned emotionlessly, "and therefore invalid." Duo's eyes grew impossibly wide, his mouth working soundlessly in large vowels.  
  
"Injustice!" he finally howled out, imitating Wufei as he poked one tapered finger at the Japanese pilot.  
  
"I hardly think so," Trowa remarked quietly, "when it was you who...adjusted his tea." Duo grasped a half empty bottle in one hand, muttering angrily as he re-filled his glass. Two empty bottles rolled noisily about the table with a jab of his elbow.  
  
"If you two are finished with your childish brawling," a severely buzzed Wufei interrupted, "I believe it is Trowa's turn." The pilot of Heavyarms blinked thoughtfully, pausing to steady a rapidly capsizing Quatre.  
  
"I never," he began quietly, fingers toying with the rim of his glass. His eyes sparked feral, a microscopic smile flickering at his lips. "I've never danced naked in front of a mirror pretending my hairbrush is a microphone."  
  
"You jerk!! You promised you wouldn't tell!!" Duo screeched, his face performing a slow burn. "You--you--"he stammered breathlessly, waving his fist maniacally in the air.  
  
"Sugoi, Trowa!" Quatre cheered, listing once more until he thunked against Trowa's chest. "Drink up, Duo!" The violet-eyed pilot snatched his glass from the table, tossing back the bitter liquid with a grimace. Heero thought he'd mumbled something involving duct tape and a certain blonde pilot, but it could have been anything.  
  
"It's your turn, Quatre," Trowa urged him quietly, his voice a fine vibration against the boy's head, tucked securely beneath his chin. The Heavyarms pilot glanced briefly at Wufei, half expecting twin geisers of blood to spurt from his nose. The Chinese pilot was far too occupied with room around him, which was beginning to resemble a Gundam pilot kaleidoscope.  
  
"Um....ano.....eto..." Quatre's eyes glazed, his thoughts reeling as he tried to fix on a suitable question. "Oh, I know!" he exclaimed brightly. "SOCIAL!!"  
  
"Hey, no fair, he already used that!" Duo announced self-righteously, bouncing about until a glare from Heero made him snatch protectively at his braid. "You gotta pick something else!" he demanded, petting his own hair reassuringly.  
  
"Quatre can choose whatever he likes," Trowa replied reasonably. "It's his turn." Duo turned to Heero, opening his mouth to protest loudly against meddling with his drinking game.  
  
"Shut up, Duo," the Japanese pilot growled, silencing his protests with the patented Heero Yuy glare. Heero grasped his drink from the table, and Duo bitterly followed suit. Wufei snatched blindly about until his hand connected with the glass and he swallowed eagerly. Quatre giggled, obviously very pleased with himself, and snuggled back against Trowa's chest.  
  
"Alright, alright," Duo sighed, wounded by the affection between Quatre and Trowa. The sight of the blonde pilot curled in Trowa's arms like a veritable angel was enough to drive him to new heights of despair. And there, seated beside him, he reasoned, was the culprit. "Your turn, Heero. Last one, OK?"  
  
The Japanese pilot surveyed the circle of boys surrounding the small coffee-table. His eyes fixed on Trowa and Quatre, examining the gentle but unmistakably possessive curve of the taller boy's arms, the adoration in the flushed face of his lover. Oh, he was certain they were lovers; it didn't take surveillance training to decipher to radiance of Quatre's face. He supposed it was practical for both of them, and Heero had no quarrel with practicality. Still...If making love with Quatre had such an effect on cold and silent Trowa, he couldn't help but wonder what the act might do to him. His eyes flickered briefly to Duo, widening slightly at the drawn features of that heart-shaped face, the despair in those large, expressive, and undeniably lovely eyes. _What's the matter with him? The game was his idea. And he's been miserable all night..._  
  
"Yuy? How long do you intend to make us wait?" Wufei inquired arrogantly, his words slightly slurred. "Duo has been quiet for a full ten minutes, and I believe Quatre is about to pass out." That decided it then, Heero mused. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he was possessed of a sudden desire to give Wufei the nosebleed of his life.  
  
"I never...."  
  
"C'mon, Heero," Duo prompted impatiently, "you--eep!"  
  
"I never," the Japanese pilot continued, Duo's braid firmly in hand.  
  
"Yuy, you dishonorable cur!" Wufei snarled, his words ridiculously slurred.  
  
"I never--kissed a boy." Heero sat and smugly awaited the effect of his challenge. As expected, Trowa lifted his glass. Quatre couldn't, as he was unconscious, head lolling off Trowa's shoulder; the Heavyarms pilot smiled slightly and drank Quatre's penalty as well. Heero glared at Wufei's face, willing the blood to come spurting forcefully from one nostril--or better yet, both. The Chinese pilot glanced briefly at each of his comrades, mouth a fine line of resentment. And then, he lifted his glass, and drank. Heero's mouth dropped open, prompting Trowa to follow suit, shocked more by the sight of Heero's dumbfounded expression than surprise at Wufei.  
  
A sudden rustle of fabric drew the Japanese pilot's attention. You too?? No, the Wing pilot swore, an unnamed emotion gnawing at his stomach. Refusing to meet Heero's eyes, Duo poured a final glass, drank, and promptly passed out.  
  
 _Damn, you!_ Heero hissed, bending to lift the prone figure into his arms. _Who was it, Duo? Who?_  
  


* * *

  
Heero paused, wedging his shoulder against the door jamb, shifting the violet-eyed boy in his arms. Duo's head lolled back, braid snaking along behind him as Heero continued down the blackened hallway. Neon light flooded the far end of the corridor, the words "24 hours" flickering from the diner across the street from their current residence. The light pasted sharp shadows across the cracks in the whitewashed walls, flickering with the perpetual beat of electric pink and blue.  
  
The American moaned obliviously as Heero arrived at his room, palming the door-knob. He shifted his burden to pass through the entrance, neglecting to raise the lights. Duo's bed lay beyond a veritable mine-field of shirts, trousers, and boxer shorts, the sheets still crumpled from the night before.  
  
Hmph. Absolutely no discipline, Heero mused almost affectionately. He strode purposefully toward the bed, intending to deposit Duo and return to his own room in the opposite wing. Duo's body curled onto his side the moment he touched the sheets, one cheek pressed against his pillow. Heero removed the boy's clothes with clinical precision, folding them neatly on the nightstand. Black silk boxers, he noted, rubbing a fold of cool fabric between his fingertips. Frivolous, pointless, like that ridiculous braid of his....and every bit as beautiful.  
  
The Wing pilot paused for a moment to gaze down at the American, dark brows furrowing with thought. Strong, callused fingertips extended hesitantly, exploring the soft surface of Duo's cheek. The boy shifted in his sleep, gravitating toward the Japanese pilot's touch. Heero snatched his hand away, staring in wonder at his own fingers, horrified at his behavior. Duo, Duo, what are you doing to me? _You're nothing but a burden, a liability, a beautiful distraction. Why--how-- do you make me want you?_ Heero rose quickly, navigating the clothes-strewn floor to reach the doorway. This can't happen; I won't let it.  
  
"Heero.....Heero no baka." the faint mumbling caught him in his tracks, curiosity drawing him nearer the bed.  
  
"Duo?" The American tossed restlessly upon the sheets, grasping fistfuls of bed-linen. A light sheen of sweat erupted on the boy's body as the words stuttered from his lips, the name 'Heero' chanted rhythmically like an incantation, a prayer.  
  
"Don't go, please don't.....please, Heero...." The words were clearly uttered through a drunken slumber, but he found, to his shame, that he couldn't abandon Duo now. A promise made under the influence of alcohol he reasoned, removing his customary tank and shorts. _Nothing binding. I'll forget this tomorrow. But I promise, Duo, I won't leave you tonight._  
  
Heero grasped Duo's chin in his fingertips, drawing his face to meet his lips. The American moaned softly beneath him, the tension seeping from his limbs as Heero fed on his slumbering mouth. Duo woke to the heated, velvety insistence of Heero's tongue stroking his own, pinned securely beneath the Japanese pilot's body. Reality struck him physically; he jerked from Heero's embrace, smacking his skull against the headboard.  
  
"He--Heero?" he croaked, amazed and more than a little frightened of the proximity of those smoldering cobalt eyes. "What are you d--" Heero's hand snaked out to grasp at his throat, fingers weaving into the hair at his nape and drawing him relentlessly closer. Duo's eyes blinked owlishly in the darkness, his features guileless, stunned. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he whispered hoarsely, recognizing the expression on Heero's face--that intense concentration and frightening, inhuman devotion to his mission. Heero's mouth twitched, a microscopic smirk curving at the tips.  
  
"Yes," he replied almost mischievously, "I suppose you might say that." Duo's mouth dropped open, and, soldier that he was, Heero didn't waste the opportunity. As his tongue explored the sweet, hot recess of Duo's mouth, his thumb wedged in the band of that ridiculous braid, snapping it in two. One hand threaded in the plaited mass of Duo's hair, tugging almost impatiently until he was cocooned in a thick fall of Duo-scented silk.  
  
"H-Heero-" the violet-eyed boy whispered helplessly, jolting at the searing sweep of breath against flesh, ghostly lips grazing the curve of neck and shoulder with maddening, feather-soft pressure.  
  
"Hm?" The Japanese pilot grasped at a thick lock of honey-shot hair, rubbing it thoughtfully between his fingers. Must be good for something...His mouth sealed against the surface of Duo's throat, savoring the groan of pleasure as the texture of hair brushed Duo's nipple. _I thought so._ Heero's mouth replaced his fingers, tongue laving it's pink surface, toying with the tiny nub of erect flesh. The American writhed in his arms, pinned between Heero and the iron headboard, fingers grasping handfuls of the Japanese boy's hair. The flushed pink flesh and openmouthed gasps flooded Heero's brain with an irrational sense of possession, ownership of this beautiful idiot emblazoned with each fevered tattoo of his heartbeat. _Mine! Mine! At least for tonight.._..  
  
Duo' body arched with the wriggling slickness of Heero's tongue against his sternum, the air cooling the wet line of flesh as the Japanese boy descended. Fingers clenched the elastic of his boxers, yanking, and the fabric slithered from his narrow hips to the floor. Violet eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment as Heero examined him, palms pressed against the smooth surface of his inner thighs, opening him against his will. For an instant, there was nothing, and Duo cracked one suspicious eye. He saw the smirk on Heero's face, shame pummeling his cheeks with color.  
  
"Keep them open, Duo," Heero demanded quietly. "I want you to see what I'm doing to you." Duo's mouth opened in a guttural, inarticulate cry as Heero's tongue flicked playfully across the tip of his sex, stroking the underside in long, steady sweeps. Firm lips held him in place as a deft tongue wormed at the opening, squeezing, tormenting him unbearably. Duo raised his hips, squirming, pleading silently for mercy. Heero laughed softly, almost menacingly--and proceeded to swallow his victim. The American groaned in response, his hands falling to clench the dark head below, throat exposed as his head fell back against the pillows. He writhed mindlessly as the suction increased, a tight hot wetness punctuated by the unbearably sweet pressure of Heero's tongue. One hand leapt to grasp at Duo's hips, stilling his mindless thrusts, and he noisily voiced his annoyance.  
  
He was vaguely aware of discomfort as Heero's fingers worked their way inside of him, stroking, stretching him. He'd almost worked up the resolve to struggle, when Heero's digits brushed up against something deep inside of him. Duo's back arched, his hips bucking with the sheer ecstasy of it, thrusting his organ deeper into the Japanese boy's mouth. He screamed out his pleasure, a shuddering exclamation of Heero's name, as he pumped his hips once, twice, again, collapsing in a boneless heap of satisfaction.  
  
Heero's tongue caressed his own lips, and he bent to kiss the moist flushed face of the boy beneath him, mouth bitter and sweet with Duo's seed.  
  
"Duo?" he asked with quiet urgency.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I want you...." Duo's eyes widened in the darkness, obviously confused by Heero's hesitance. Realization dawned on him with a rush of hot color, and he groaned in embarrassment, jabbing a finger at the bedside table. Duo rolled onto his side, the sound of Heero rummaging through his belongings drowning in the thundering of his own heart. The cheap iron frame creaked softly with the return of the Japanese boy's weight. The scent of lotion mingled with musk assaulted his senses, and the American turned, intending to kneel on all fours.  
  
"No. Not like that." Heero's breath was a fine, hot rasp against his shoulder, and satin-clad iron fingers were grasping his flesh, turning him onto his back. He was being raised, opened, his legs hooked about Heero's shoulders, his violet-eyed devotion pinned and wriggling beneath the sheer weight of cobalt lust.  
  
The Japanese pilot entered him slowly, Duo's quiet whimpering stifled by the exquisite pleasure of being inside of him--marking him, owning him as no one else ever could. _Duo, my Duo..._ A low groan rumbled up from the depths of his lean, muscular body, features contorted with the agony of pleasure, of possession, the pleasure of being possessed. _Duo, my Duo....If only for tonight._  
  
"Oh God--Heero!" The slender form beneath him trembled violently, hard length trapped between them, eyes wide in astonishment. Heero angled his thrusts exactly, enraptured by the writhing body jackknifed beneath him, the short open-mouth gasps of pleasure--pleasure he'd inflicted. Duo's body tensed, his sudden shout of fulfillment heralding the exquisite tensing of his muscles. Heero joined him, head thrown back, throat corded, clenched fingers bruising the surface of Duo's shoulder. The Wing pilot collapsed, mouthing the salty arc of flesh, apologizing. One arm closed possessively about the American's waist, drawing the warm and vibrant body close.  
  
The air conditioning thrummed irritably on, chill fingers peeling the sweat from a tangled heap of limbs. Heero groped blindly for the tattered blanket, yanking it across their bodies. Duo stirred sleepily against him, fitting his cheek in the hollow of his lover's shoulder.  
  
"Duo?" he questioned softly, eyes tracing the jagged line of a watermark down the wall.  
  
"Hmm?" Heero palmed the smooth surface of Duo's cheek, stroking that irritating mouth with his thumb, willing him to listen.  
  
"That game you made me play...."  
  
"I never?" Duo asked, grinning rather foolishly in the darkness. "Man, Quatre really can't hold his liquor. What a lightweight! I thought for sure he was gonna give Wufei a biiiiiig nosebleed--"  
  
"Who did you kiss, Duo?"  
  
"Huh?" The American blinked dramatically, wincing comically as he tried to shift position and almost yanked free a fourth of his hair. "Itai!!"  
  
"Duo..." Heero continued menacingly, an expression that, to the drunken Shinigami pilot, threatened an imminent use of scissors.  
  
"Eep! Ano....eto...um...I did kiss a boy once," he conceded quietly, the heart shaped face performing a slow burn. "Just a little kiss, heh, nothing serious, really--"  
  
"Who was it, Duo?!" The American blinked twice, amazed at the jealousy in those cobalt eyes.  
  
"Well...it was you, Heero."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I swear!! Look--I'll explain, OK?" Duo gathered the mass of his hair, tucking it securely from Heero's grasp before continuing. "It was the last school, we roomed together, right? You have these nightmares, Man, it's like you think somebody's trying to kill you, it really freaks me out. You sounded scared, or hurt, or something, I dunno....I just wanted to help you. So...I held you, sang to you a little. And one time, I just couldn't help myself," he concluded, chewing on his lower lip. "So I kissed you. I would've told you, but I couldn't....I just couldn't" Duo winced as Heero's fingers smoothed the chestnut bangs from his eyes. One callused thumb traced a thin line of moisture along the curve of Duo's cheek.  
  
"Duo?" he asked wonderingly. "Why are you crying?" The violet-eyed boy evaded his fingertips, but Heero managed to force his face from the shadows.  
  
"It's nothing. I just figured you hated me," he sighed, settling once more against Heero's chest. "Quatre's got Trowa, you've got Relena, even Wufei's got--somebody. Just got tired of being alone," he slurred brokenly, clutching the Japanese pilot like a lifeline. "Not alone anymore, ne Heero? Promise me. Promise you'll never leave me."  
  
"I promise," Heero rasped, the lie scalding his throat as he forced it past. _Maybe I can forget tonight. Bury the memory of my weakness, the feel of him in my arms, the taste of his flesh. Maybe I can repress all of this. But he can't. This was a mistake._  
  
Duo shifted in his sleep, molding himself to the arc of his lover's body, basking in the warmth of Heero's vow. The Japanese boy glanced toward the window, watching the sickly flicker of a yellow bar-sign, reflected color trickling down the pavement and dribbling pathetically into a storm gutter.


	2. Asahi

The irritable squeal and grumble of a delivery truck punctured the silence of a midmorning town in decline. Thick bands of sunlight sprang free as the vehicle labored away, penetrating the grimy surface of a bedroom window. Duo wrinkled his nose as a pool of yellow warmth prodded his closed eyelids, demanding entrance.

"Oi, Heero, kill the lights, Man, I'm up already." Duo clenched the furled edge of his sheets, yanking the coarse fabric up over his head. He was promptly attacked by a potent combination of dust, sweat, and a rather suspicious musk, and the resulting sneeze flipped the sheet from his face.

"Ugh, Duo no baka," he groaned, peeling the damp hair from his face, "you did it again, didn't you? Cheap stuff, too, and you were really putting it away last night. Could've sworn I crashed in the living room, though," he rambled absently, growing steadily aware that he was NOT sprawled out on the living room carpet, and more importantly, he was NOT dressed like a priest on holiday. In fact, he noted with growing mortification, he was clothed only in a gold crucifix, and an unbound mass of sleep-mussed chestnut hair.

"Heero....He--I was withñOh my--SHIMATA!" Duo's jaw dropped, violet eyes saucer-sized with the influx of memory. He lurched forward, hair trapped beneath one elbow, and the sheets coiled about his legs, so that he promptly found himself flat on the floor. "K'so!" he wailed, wriggling about on a heap of t-shirts and boxer shorts and spouting curses until he managed to right himself.

Duo paused for a moment, gazing thoughtfully up at the pathetic little iron bed. Empty... His mouth crumbled a bit at the edges as doubt set in, gnawing greedily at a heart skinned raw by frequent abandonment. _He left me? Iya, of course not, Baka, he promised you. He's holed up in his room with that damn laptop, or maybe out tinkering with his Gundam. Hell, just 'cause he slept with you doesn't mean he's gonna hang around and listen to you babble all day. What did you expect, breakfast in bed?_ A wide grin plastered itself across the American pilot's face, and he collapsed back onto the pile of laundry, laughing at the thought of Heero trying to boil water, break eggs--and all in Quatre's adorable little apron.

The grin softened as he basked in the midmorning sunlight, gentle heat bathing the heart shaped face. In the private space behind closed violet eyes, Heero executed his sensual mission. Duo flushed crimson at the thought of it. The infiltration of a mystery called Duo, an erotic roster of objectives, which Heero would relentlessly pursue. The taking of the violet-eyed boy's body, the effortless capture of Death's indomitable pride, these tasks he accomplished too easily. Innocence was duly stolen, and pleasure inflicted on the newly acquired territory of Duo's flesh. No margin for error, no tolerance for failure. This was the terrifying ecstasy of Heero's claim upon him, the honor and agony of belonging to the perfect soldier.

 _Heero, Heero....Ai shiteiru...._ The American's hand slid unconsciously to his groin, fingers coiling about the rigid length of his shaft. _Hmmm. If you were_ here now, Koi, I know what we'd be doing. His hand pumped slowly, Heero's image plastered wickedly behind his eyelids, Heero's fingers, Heero's tongue--

"Duo! Duo, are you awake?" The American jumped at Quatre's quiet, apologetic voice, snatching blindly at a pair of striped boxers. The blonde boy frowned as the scuffling sound of limbs and cheap furniture colliding issued through the door.

"Duo, daijoubu desu ka?"

"Yeah, I'm fine!" he shouted irritably, yanking on a pair of faded jeans. "The second I'm decent," he mumbled under his breath, "I swear I'm gonna find me a pair of scissors and--"

"Nani? I just wanted to tell you that I'm making some grilled cheese sandwiches, and I wondered if--" Quatre staggered back as the bedroom door swung open, and Duo, topless and unbuttoned, made a mad dash toward the bathroom with one hand clamped over his mouth. "Matte, Duo! Ah, well. I'll set a place for you anyway." Quatre shook his head affectionately and, hot-pad in hand, headed back to the kitchen.

* * *

  
"Oi, ohayo!" Duo gushed, bounding into the kitchen with his braid snaking behind him. "Saa~aaa, Quatre, I'm starving, Man, can't you cook that any faster?" The blonde pilot fixed him with a weary, bloodshot glare before forcing his lips into the familiar, angelic smile. "Gomen, Duo, but you'll just have to wait. Why don't you go sit down by Wufei?"  
  
"Ok, OkñHey! The burner's not even on--" Quatre smacked Duo's hand from the grimy little knob in question and propelled him toward the table.  
  
Wufei grunted irritably in his sleep as the American plopped into the chair beside him, forehead pressed firmly to the center of his waiting plate, his fingers clenching an empty bottle of aspirin. The temptation of that spiky, tousled pigtail thrust skyward from the back of Wufei's head proved too great for Duo. The American pilot glanced briefly at Quatre, wholly occupied with dishwashing, and back at the sleeping Chinese pilot. His hand leapt out, grasped the fine black hair, and yanked.  
  
"ITAI!! " Wufei sputtered awake, lurching back in his chair with a howl of pain, one hand grasping for a non-existent sword. The sudden movement upset the Chinese boy's chair, and he toppled back, feet dangling above the table in place of his head. "MAXWELL!!" Wufei shrieked, struggling to right himself from the kitchen floor. "COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT! YOU HAVE NO HONOR, YOU COWARD!!" The threats drizzled into a mumbled stream of nonsense as Wufei settled at the table, his mouth pressed against his forearms. Duo peeked cautiously from behind the stove, and, deciding that Shenlong's pilot was far too hung over to be a threat, he bounded merrily over.  
  
"Oi, Wufei, you look like hell, Man! Didn't you get any sleep last night?"  
  
"No, I did not," the Chinese boy returned icily, glaring at the hyperactive American. "After all, Maxwell, my room is adjacent to yours."  
  
"Aaa...ano...eto..."Duo stammered, struggling for an appropriate come-back. Quatre's fair skin flushed pink, blue eyes widening in shock as he deciphered Wufei's complaint.  
  
"So THAT'S what--"  
  
"Oi, Quatre, "Duo interrupted quickly, "you missed it! Wufei's BIG announcement. C'mon, man tell us all about it! I bet Nataku's gonna be soooooo jealous," he squealed happily, envisioning a towering metal shrew whining angrily at a cowering, henpecked pilot. "So when you gonna tell her, Wu? Ha--I'll bet you've been seeing another Gundam behind her back! Man, I hope you're not messing around with my Shinigami!"  
  
Wufei shook the aspirin bottle dramatically as Duo continued his ridiculous spiel, wondering why nothing was falling out. _Oh, if only he'd step closer, he thought wickedly, just a bit closer with that disgraceful braid. That's it, Duo....that's it....Shimata!_  
  
Duo pounced at the countertop, rummaging through the cabinets for a familiar canister. "Oi, Quatre, you got any coffee?"  
  
"Gomen, Duo," Quatre apologized with a sigh, yanking a mug from the American's grip. "It was Trowa's turn to buy supplies..."  
  
"Where is Trowa anyway?" the braided boy asked, successfully pilfering a slab of bread and cramming it into his mouth.  
  
"He's not here, Duo, he--"  
  
"Ah, he's still in bed, ne? Ne~eeee? You two have a long night?" he grinned wickedly, sending a rush of crimson to the blonde boy's face.  
  
"Ano....eto...."  
  
"You better watch out for that one, Quatre," the American counseled soberly, snatching a slice of cheese from the counter behind him. "Trowa's as slippery as Heero. Can't keep a guy like that in one place. Ha! Remember that time I smeared Vaseline on the doorknob of Heero's bedroom? I thought for sure I had him then!" Duo paused to reflect on the outcome of his prank. "Actually, I thought for sure he had ME. Man, he was PISSED!"  
  
"Demo, Duo--"  
  
"Eh?" the braided boy grunted, shoving an empty cheese wrapper in his pocket and pasting an innocent smile on his face.  
  
"I--Oh no!" Quatre snatched wildly at the skillet, chunking the heavy object onto a cool burner. The scent of charred bread permeated the room, punctuated by a dull sizzle. Duo lifted one sandwich by the crust, observing as it plopped back to the pan with a dull, papery, *smack*.  
  
"Oh, gomen minna-san, I wasn't paying attention, I'm so sorry--"  
  
"Oi, Wu, Man, where ya goin'?" Wufei paused dramatically in the shadow of the doorway, clutching his empty bottle.  
  
"I am going...FAR AWAY from ALL of you."  
  
"Oh, come on, Man, don't go. Look," Duo pleaded, "there's a diner across the street. It'll be fun, Wu--I bet even Heero'd go for that!"  
  
"But Duo," Quatre interrupted desperately, "that's what I've been trying to tell you. A mission came through early this morning. Trowa and Heero are gone."  
  
"Mission?" he repeated foolishly, violet eyes gazing imploringly at Quatre (himself in a state of anxiety).  
  
"Hai. They left before dawn. Just some surveillance work, Duo, I'm sure they'll be fineÖ"  
  
"Heero," Duo whispered, scarcely aware of Quatre's soft fingers clenching his arm, wide blue eyes broadcasting concern. One hand clutched at his braid, fingers smoothing the soft curl of hair at the tip. _So many things I never got to say. What if he doesn't come back? K'so, Heero. Ai shiteiru. And you didn't even say goodbye_.


	3. Higure

The dull haze of twilight blurred the prickled line of the horizon, softening an endless expanse of cracked pavement. Shadows collected in the angular nooks and crannies of a dingy all-terrain vehicle, pooling in thick, filthy, smears. The wheel thrummed irritably beneath Heero's callused palms, bucking gently beneath his fingertips.

There was something comforting in the simplicity of the thing, wheel and axis, a jumbled assortment of outdated cogs and wires. He found security in the dull metal clang of the tire iron in back, and the rattle of tools in their grease-smeared cardboard box. Machines, he reflected, operated on a profoundly, and refreshingly, logical course. Unlike certain American pilotsÖ

Heero scowled, activating the headlights with an audible "snap". It was disgraceful, ridiculous, this preoccupation with Duo Maxwell. He'd formulated dozens of excuses for his behavior that night, and failed to sell himself on any one of them. _You wanted him_ , he admitted bleakly. _He neeñwanted you,_ he amended quickly. _He distracted you, it was obvious he wanted you to do it, he couldn't keep his hands off you! It was only natural that you reacted, you needed the releaseñhe asked for it god-damnit! You were drunk, both of you, you didn't mean what you said!_ Heero gazed fiercely down the weak yellow low-beams, watching the light coagulate on the pavement. _He'll get over it,_ he muttered fiercely, scarcely aware that he'd taken the blame.

The road narrowed abruptly, plummeting from the encompassing gloom of mangled forest. A bruised sky erupted above, dusted with a careless smattering of stars. The fall of sickly light, the thick, musty scent of the cab--these sensations toyed cruelly with Heero's memory. It was simplicity itself to substitute a dusty, shadow-gray mattress, the flickering of a bar-sign beyond a grimy window. He'd awakened well before dawn, knotted in fabric and the sweep of Duo's unbound hair, the boy's cheek nestled against his breast. I didn't dream last night, he mused, both in awe, and a kind of heady anxiety. My first kissÖHe wanted to wake me from a nightmare. Ironic, really; I'd been dreaming about him.

Heero sealed himself from the inevitable babble of memory, the promises of dream-wraiths tormenting him as they had in those pre-dawn hours with Duo. "Iie! Please, Heero yamete! Ai shiteiru.. The Japanese boy shook his head, violently dislodging the image of a beautiful, pleading, dying -- _Iie!_ _I didn't dream that night with him_. _I won't think about it now._

Dark brows furrowed in annoyance, and he grasped the wheel until his knuckles blanched. He'd abandoned Duo, fleeing to his bedroom, clutching his laptop like the mechanical lifeline it was. It was his intention to leave the braided-boy; the mission merely provided a face-saving excuse. This was weakness, he knew, a blemish on the reputation of a flawless soldier. But it was comforting, knowing he wouldn't have to face Duo in the morning.

The Japanese boy glanced briefly at the passenger seat, eyeing the jagged profile of Trowa Barton. The fine mouth hardened in a scowl of disapproval. The surreal events of the previous night unfurled in the cage of his thoughts. Shouldering his pack, he'd padded along the silent corridor to retrieve the Heavyarms pilot. A thick wedge of light marked the entrance to Quatre's room, and Heero couldn't resist the temptation to glance within. Golden light flooded the room, and almost appeared to emanate from the angelic, sleep-mussed boy ensconced in the bed. He'd watched the pack slide from Trowa's slight shoulder, as the boy extended one slim, elegant hand. Quatre turned into the touch, warming his cheek against it's surface.

"It's only for a little while, ne?" he'd heard the blonde boy murmur, lips spreading in a fragile, hopeful smile. "I'm not worried." Liar, Heero mused, glancing once more at the sleeping pilot, his expression grim. Trowa's response still galled him, a thing so impractical, so senseless, he found it cruel.

"I'll be back, Angel," he'd replied, the words more of an exhalation. "I promise." Heero's lip curled in response to the memory. He'd turned away at the sight of that achingly tender kiss, ashamed for having eavesdropped in the first place. He recalled Trowa's expression when he joined the Japanese boy in the hallway, completely at odds with his own scowl of displeasure.

"Why did you tell him that?" he'd snarled, eyeing the other pilot accusingly. "We're Gundam pilots, we're fucking expendable--how can you promise something like that?"

"He knows," Trowa had responded with characteristic brevity. "It's better this way; better to say it now, while you can."

"What good does that do?" the Wing pilot had argued irritably. "It's not going to hurt him any less. Don't be a fool, Trowa; don't make promises you can't keep." The Heavyarms pilot had shrugged in response, examining Heero with his one visible eye.

"Of course it'll hurt. But at least he'll have no regrets." Heero recalled the animalistic tilt of the boy's head, a calculating stare that made him distinctly uneasy. "So you didn't say goodbye to Duo," he'd replied matter of factly, fisting the doorknob before him.

"What makes you think we're together?" Heero's cheeks grew suspiciously warm at the embarrassing memory.

"Duo makes a lot of noise." _Oh, god, does he everÖ_

"Heero?" The Japanese pilot started as Trowa drew himself up, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Ah?"

"It's been six hours. Do you want me to relieve you?"

"Iie," Heero grunted in response, peering stubbornly through the cracked windshield. Trowa shrugged, settling back into his seat with a long sigh.

The headlights flooded the infinite stretch of weathered pavement. The dry mustiness of the ancient truck assaulted his senses. And now, it was the iron bed, and the flickering yellow sign, a small town flashing "poverty" and " sex" in neon through a bedroom window. He'd cheapened Duo, left him soiled and naked on the sheets, clothed in the fantastic blasphemy of a golden crucifix. _Yamete! Please, Heero, please_

"I don't want to sleep," Heero whispered, terrified by the dream, and it's implications. Duo peered back at him from the space behind his eyes, lips crimson-stained and turned in a beautific smile. _If this is what you want, HeeroÖ. Sayounara._ Ai shiteiru. 


	4. The Gathering Storm

  
Pale light stroked the naked blade of a sword, clenched in the moist fist of a raven-haired boy. _We meet again, my Dragon. I promised we would._  
  
 _Treize?_ Wufei shook his head, challenging the thick velvet folds of the dream. The heady scent of roses enveloped him; he was drowning in the sickly-sweet heat of his rival's presence. _I told you, I--I don't want to see you again_. Aristocratic fingers grasped at his nape, threading through the lush dark silk, drawing him irresistibly closer. _Stop!_ You're not listening, you never listen to--Wufei's sword slipped from his grasp, his limbs rigid with the shock of Treize's thumb parting his lips. _Iie! You shouldn't--I shouldn't be here, this isn't right--_  
  
 _I find it strange that someone as honorable as you, Dragon, should lie so easily._  
  
Lie? he cried in outrage, struggling fruitlessly against a rigid embrace. Hanase! Dark fists pummeled the fine white fabric of Treize's sleeping tunic, until spent, he collapsed against his shoulder.  
  
 _Indeed,_ the man responded indulgently. _Only your pride rebels against me_. One large palm snaked beneath Wufei's shirt, tracing soothing patterns on the boy's flesh. _My proud beautiful one, my lonely one. That's why you return to me, isn't it? Penetrating my defenses, appearing in my bedroom with your sword poised to slay me where I lie. When in truth, what you really want_ , he murmured against the boy's mouth, is for me to slay you in my bed. Wufei's jaw dropped, his face performing a slow burn. Countless denials rose to his lips, but his rival thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth, effectively silencing him. The older man's hands clenched Wufei's chest, thumbs seeking his nipples, circling with delicious pressure.  
  
 _Treize,_ he groaned miserably, _It's been so long...._  
  
 _You're frantic tonight aren't you? Patience is a virtue, young Dragon._  
  
 _Treize, please!_ The submissive desperation in the Chinese boy's tone pleased Treize immensely.  
  
 _Perhaps a reward then, for your honesty._ Wufei observed in a kind of drugged detachment as the honey-gold head descended, anticipation sharpening until his breath came in ragged gasps. Treize was resting between his thighs, his hands thrusting them apart, lingering for a cruel eternity. The moist heat of the man's breath scalded the fine flesh, he was lifting his hips so shamefully, and at last, at last, he was---  
  
CRASH!!  
  
Jagged cracks of white-hot light shattered the sky, the roar of thunder thrusting Wufei into consciousness. His back snapped rigid in the chair, one hand grasping for his sword, half-mast eyes blinking sleepily in the night-dark kitchen. Rain pelted the filthy windows, battering the panes in thick, rhythmic sheets.  
  
"A storm," Wufei murmured, "nothing more." The Chinese boy nestled his cheek against the bow of his arms, shifting in the hard wooden chair. His eyes drifted closed, breath lengthening almost instantly toward much-needed--  
  
CRASH!! Wufei jerked his head from the table, eyes fixed on the wriggling of the kitchen doorknob. Two figures lurched into view, features rendered sinister by the beaded moonlight.  
  
"You're late," Wufei remarked soberly, settling into his chair with a veneer of boredom. Heero merely unwound the bloody figure of Trowa from about his shoulders, helping him into a chair. The Chinese boy's eyes flicked briefly over the Heavyarms pilot, as well as the brooding boy who'd helped him in. Patches of thick crusty blood matted their clothing into odd ripples of fabric. Trowa's turtleneck had been ripped from the left shoulder down, revealing a stained, frothy abundance of gauze. Heero himself appeared to have fared better, though it was difficult to tell if those were bruises beneath his second skin of rain-slicked filth.  
  
"The mission was successful," Heero grunted, gazing impassively at the storm outside. "It's imperetive we return immediately."  
  
"Immediately? Nanase, Yuy! Must I point out the obvious flaws in your mission profile? You may have succeeded in your reconnaissance, but they obviously discovered you, and neither of you are in peak condition. I'm sure you can accomplish your hacking," he admitted. "But how is Trowa to assassinate anyone if he can't hold a gun?"  
  
"The bullet only grazed my shoulder," Trowa supplied quietly.  
  
"Even so--"  
  
"It's a new facility," Heero interrupted, glowering fiercely at his opposition. "The target will vacate after three more days, and a large convoy of troops will be arriving within the week. We leave tomorrow at dawn."  
  
"Very well," Wufei muttered, settling back into his chair. "Do as you like. But you'll have to do it without Quatre."  
  
"What's wrong with Quatre?" Trowa interjected sharply.  
  
"Nothing of consequence. Maxwell pulled his disappearing act the other night. I advised Quatre he was more than likely passed out in that bar across the street, but he insisted on searching. They both came home soaked from the rain, and it seems Quatre's come down with something."  
  
"We can function with four," Heero grumbled irritably. A quiet rustling alerted him to Trowa rising from his chair. The lean and angular pilot made his way toward the hallway, grasping the countertop for support. The Japanese pilot made to follow. K'so. He paused at the trickling sensation of fresh blood along his ankle. He glared at the wound, cursing the stitches for tearing, willing the gash to heal.  
  
"Where's the first aid kit?" Heero inquired, the words an exhalation of weariness.  
  
"I believe it's still in Maxwell's room," Wufei replied. Heero raised one questioning brow, but said nothing.  
  
"Go to bed, Wufei," he ordered quietly, entering the shadow of the hallway. "You're not keeping watch anyway."  
  
"Hai," the Chinese boy replied, his cheeks burning with shame, as Heero's footsteps bled into the night.  



	5. The Storm Breaks

  
The shrill moan of an ambulance punctured the pre-dawn silence, startling the boy poised in the hallway. Sheets of rain thundered against the far window, the vibrant colors of the diner sign dribbling into the sill. The storm flung sheets of white-hot light at the Japanese pilot, pinning his shadow to the moldering wall.  
  
 _I shouldn't be here,_ Heero growled, glaring at the crimson-slicked curve of his ankle. His gaze slid wistfully along the narrow V of the corridor, yearning for the sanctuary of his own bedroom. The pungent odor of blood drew his attention sharply to the task at hand. _This is a mistake,_ he intoned emotionlessly, eyeing the trickling failure of his field dressing. _I can't afford another._ Numb fingers fumbled with the doorknob, squeezing rippled dents into it's surface. _Baka; it's a simple mission. Just make it quick and quiet, and get the hell out._ Heero's lip curled with determination. He entered the room.  
  
 _Shimatta!_ Narrow cobalt eyes surveyed the vast minefield of clothing, toiletries, and second-hand manga. _I ought to wake him right now and beat the shit out of him!_ Heero's gaze fixed on the iron bed in the corner instinctively, his mouth a fine line of fury. He strode purposefully toward the sleeping pilot, fully intending to grasp him by that ridiculous braid of his and throttle some sense into him. Instead, he found himself poised motionless above Duo, his lower lip clenched between his teeth. _Duo, he groaned miserably. K'so; I've made another mistakeÖ_  
  
Yellow light stained the mattress, bathing the violet-eyed boy with an aura of cheap eroticism. One deceptively slender arm stretched sensually above his head, the other buried in the unbound mass of Duo's hair. Heero's breath caught, eyes following the helpless angle of the boy's wrist, the gnarled sweep of fabric about his waist. One leg protruded from beneath the blankets, revealing the soft white curve of his inner thigh. The Japanese boy longed to clench that velvet flesh, fingers sliding up beneath the pale, threadbare fabric of Duo's boxers. His eyes glazed with the fantasy of possession, biting the pristine flesh, bruising it, proclaiming his ownership of this beautiful boy. Lust throbbed like the pounding of the blood in his ears, the insistence of the wound that had driven him here. If he'd taken the braided boy for satisfaction, he'd been unsuccessful. He was not satisfied, would not be until Heero had possessed Duo again and again andñ  
  
 _Iie! What's the matter with you? You were drunk that night. So you fucked him, it made you feel goodñit's over now, you don't need him anymore! Find the goddamn kit and get out!_  
  
Heero rummaged furiously through a heap of t-shirts and boxer shorts, turning his back on the sleeping pilot. The sole of his right foot met the bristles of a hairbrush, and he bit his lip, trigger finger twitching reflexively. Just find it, just hurry up and find it beforeñ  
  
"UhnnÖDare dañHeero? Is that you?" Duo flicked on the bedside lamp, propped up on his side and squinting sleepily.  
  
"Ah," he grunted, fingers still clenching a handful of battered manga and a limp black sock.  
  
"Ah?" the American returned angrily, swiping one bleary eye with the back of his hand. "Is that all you've got to say for yourself? Maybe nobody ever told you, Heero, but sneaking off like that after you bang somebody is bad manners to say the least. I mean, what am I supposed to think, maybe it wasn't good for you or something, maybe I said something dumb and being the literal bastard you areñShimatta! Heero, you're hurt!"  
  
"It's nothing," he returned irritably as Duo bounded from his bed, launching himself at the far corner of the room. "Just give me the kit and I'llñ"  
  
"Nothing??" the braided boy half-shrieked, yanking the kit from beneath a black t-shirt, emblazoned with the logo "I'm not luckyñI'm good." "Heero, you're bleeding all over my sock pile! Here," he demanded, shoving the Japanese boy toward the bed. "Just have a seat and let me take a look at it, K? K'so!! Man, Heero no baka, you ripped the stitches right outñwhat were you doing?"  
  
"Carrying Trowa," he returned emotionlessly, fixing his gaze on the raindrenched window. If I keep my eyes on that bar-sign, I'll be alright. I'll just let him do it, and then I can go.  
  
"What happened to Trowa?" Duo returned, eyes wide as he stripped the wrapper from a surgical needle.  
  
"Bullet grazed his shoulder. He's fine."  
  
"Maybe for you," the American snorted, busying himself with Heero's injury. "So why'd you have to carry him then, Baka?"  
  
"Painkillers," the Japanese boy growled, annoyed by Duo's incessant prattle. "He'll be fine for tomorrow."  
  
"So we're going out tomorrow then? Heero---hold still, damnit!" The short-haired boy yanked free from the American's grasp, synching the final knot and tearing the thread with his teeth. Fingers clenched at his shoulder, turning him roughly about, Duo's face thrust close to his.  
  
"Baka! You bastard!" the violet eyed boy exclaimed, peering desperately from beneath a thick fringe of bangs. "You left and you didn't even say goodbye! You left me!"  
  
"I've left you before," he replied simply, uncomprehending. "It was a mission."  
  
"That's different! That was beforeñbefore weñ"  
  
"Before we what?" Heero's fingers snatched at a long lock of chestnut hair, coiling it thoughtfully about his fingers. "Tell me, Duo. What would you have done if I hadn't come back? If I'd been shot, if Wing was gunned down in battle, if I self destructed--"  
  
"Iie! Don't say things like that," the American sputtered angrily. "I don't want to think about it! Nothing's going to happen!"  
  
 _You're right, Duo. Nothing's going to happen. I won't let it. If I hurt you now, you won't feel a thing later on. That's the way it has to be. Because one day, I'm not coming back._  
  
"You're here now, Heero, you're safe, that's the important thing." Duo wound his arms around the Japanese pilot, his breath scalding the others cheek. "It's alright, whatever you want," he murmured, tucking his head in the crook of Heero's neck. "As long as you always come back to me."  
  
"DuoñStop." Iron fingers pried the braided boy loose, thrusting him at arms length. Cobalt eyes regarded him with something akin to pity.  
  
"What's wrong? I-I don't understandñ"  
  
"That nightÖ."Heero began, the words sour against his palate. "That night when weÖwhen weÖ."  
  
"When we _made love_ ," Duo supplied furiously, muscle tensing beneath the Japanese boy's fingers.  
  
"Call it what you like," he replied callously. "It won't happen again."  
  
"Iie!" The violet-eyed boy cried, yanking free of Heero's grasp, setting a small distance between them. "Iie! I don't believe you! You said I belonged to you, you promisedñ"  
  
"I was drunk, Duo. We both were. I'm sorry; it never should have happened." Wide violet eyes glossed with moisture, the delicious mouth trembling slightly. I wishÖ  
  
"Butñbutñ"  
  
 _I wish things could be different, Duo._  
  
"Demo, you liked it, Heero, I know you didñ"  
  
"That's not the point," he responded wearily, calculating the distance to the hallway. Impossible to escape with the flushed and tearstained vision before him.  
  
"Then what the hell is the point?" Duo snarled, surging forward to clutch a fistfull of Heero's green tank. "Is that all it was for you, then?" he raged, voice raw with betrayal. "You had a few too many and you figured Duo Maxwell would spread his legs for you, is that it?"  
  
"Duoñ"  
  
"Well, that wasn't it for me, Heero! I've been alone my whole fucking life, everyone who loves me dies on me, everyone! I gave myself to you, do you understand me Yuy? I gave myself to you, and you promisedñ"  
  
"Duo!"  
  
"God damn you Heero Yuy! Ai shiteiru, you fucking bastard!" The Japanese boy reacted instinctivly, the words of a dream-wraith echoed by the furious boy before him. _Ai shiteiru, Ai shiteiru, anything you want, Heero, anythingÖ_  
  
"Iie!" His fist trembled, jutting in a wide arch to crack against the braided boy's cheek. The force of the blow flung Duo back, the carpet burning streaks against his naked back. He lay stunned as Heero examined the angry flesh of his fist, dark features drawn in torment. Regaining his senses, a sobbing, frightened Duo fled the bedroom, vanishing in a cloud of chestnut hair.  
  
 _Now I understand,_ Heero mused emotionlessly, sinking gradually to the carpet. _I know why I didn't dream that night with him._ He clenched at the warm fabric of Duo's blanket, pressing it's scented warmth to his cheek. _I took him, so it wasn't a dream anymore. I was so weak; he was so beautiful--I couldn't help myself. Why couldn't I leave him alone?_ Heero closed his eyes, inhaling the unique fragrance that was Duo, despising himself for this regression. _Again, I'm killing an innocent._  
  
The steady throb of the rain dulled his senses. Again he gazed at the yellow expanse of Duo's bed, still creased by the shape of the absent pilot. "He'll come back," he murmured tonelessly, fingers tracing patterns on the threadbare mattress. "He won't botch the mission." Heero rose unsteadily to his feet, unconsciously clutching Duo's blanket.  
  
'Are you lost, niisan?' 'I've been lost all my life.'  
  
 _The slaughter of innocents_ , he noted bitterly. _It's all I'm really good for_. Shadow devoured him as he padded out into the hallway, slowly closing the distance between bedrooms. The door creaked shut, and he collapsed, fully clothed against the hard surface of his mattress. _So tiredÖPlease, no dreams tonight._ Heero pulled the gnarled blue blanket to his chin, weariness shuttering the glazed cobalt eyes.  
  
 _Ai shiteiru, Duo. Omae o korosu._  



	6. Evidence

_**Frightened of the shadow on the wall; I think it looks a bit too much like me;  
Search my life for evidence of truth; Can you hear me; Can you hear me now?**_

"Baka," Duo panted breathlessly, "baka, ne?" He scrubbed at his eyes with one hand, smearing the tears into his rainslicked cheek. Bare feet hit the pavement with a wet "smack", drenching his ankles as he leapt from gutter to curb.  
  
 _You wanted to get him drunk--you planned it_ , the American hissed angrily, _'cause you figured maybe, just maybe, he'd be so wasted he'd fuck you! God, why the hell did you let him do it? 'Mr. Perfect Soldier', you should've known how he'd take it--and you opened your legs for him, didn't you! Did you really think he loved you? Baka!! God, the only thing I hate more than myself is this damn town. K'so! Why am I running, anyway? It's not like there's any place to go._  
  
The American stumbled forward, breath ragged, eyeing the slumped roof of a cheap motel. He slipped beneath the tattered awning, crumbling immediately into a heap of rain soaked limbs. Duo placed his cheek upon his drawn knees, arms clutching his legs to his body.  
  
 _Ch'. I promised Quatre I wouldn't run anymore._ The motel 'vacancy' light buzzed on, flooding the wan figure with harsh violet light. Duo clutched at the leather jacked he'd snatched on his way out. He shifted on the cool, rain-scented pavement, tugging at a pair of jagged black sweat-shorts. Duo was suddenly struck with the absurdity of it all, this soiled, tattered figure huddled in the shadow of a seedy motel.  
  
"Kind of wish somebody'd take me home tonight," he muttered, coiling a lock of chestnut about his fingers. _Liar. You're hoping Heero'll have a change of heart. You're hoping he'll be the one to take you home. A small, bitter smile curled at the American's lip. But you know better, don't you? Not even Quatre can save you tonight._  
  
 _**Terrified my tongue will now betray; All the lies that I've been taught to say; Searched your eyes for evidence of love; Can you hear me; Can you hear me now? **_  
  
The anxious, melencholy lyrics burst from the door of a club across the street, muting as the door slammed shut. The man glanced up from the meandering search for his car, glazed eyes fixing on Duo. The American's cheeks flushed beneath his scrutiny, the suggestive tilt of the man's lips. _Oh God, he's coming over hereÖ_ Duo pinpointed the moment he discovered his gender. One hand raked through sweat-dampened blonde hair, grey eyes wide in embarassment. _Ha. Serves you right. Wait a minuteÖ_  
  
"You're a boy, right?"  
  
"Nani? Last time I checked. Oi, man, you gotta car, right? I'm soaked, you knowñwanna gimme a lift back to my place? It's not far. I don't have a dime, but I got this friend who's loaded and I bet he can hook you up, ifñ"  
  
"You talk a lot, don't you."  
  
"Aa," Duo replied uneasily, shifting beneath that decidedly hungry gaze. That's what Heero says anyway. HeeroÖ  
  
"I'll give you a ride, kid," the man murmured, fingering a lock of Duo's hair. "But I don't want your money."  
  
 _Do I want a ride that bad?? It'd serve Heero right if I slept with himñand he's handsome enough too, butÖBaka. Heero doesn't care who you fuck. He doesn't care about you._  
  
"C'mon, kid. What's it gonna be. I'll take real good care of youÖ"  
  
 _Oh, I'm sure you willÖK'so!_  
  
"AnoÖ..well, that's all right. You look pretty wasted, manñyou'd prob'ly just crash us up! I think I'll just walk homeñgood for you, and all that. Thanks anyway!" Duo made his escape along the weed encrusted sidewalk, mud squishing between his toes. Moonbeams slithered along the narrow expanse of the pavement, punctuated by globes of yellow lamplight.  
  
 _At least it's stopped raining._ Violet eyes surveyed the bruised horizon with it's jagged range of low income houses. The slender needle of a church steeple caught his gaze, and Duo's features brightened with relief. _ConfessionÖGod, I'd given up on that. What kind of penance could make me clean? Iie; how could I burden anyone with the things I've done?_ He clenched his lower lip between his teeth, envisioning the night he'd spent with Heero. _Maybe just for tonight._  
  
 _**Can you hear the child in tears; whose paradise was taken from his hands; Can you hold him in your arms; And tell him that you'll try to understand; When there's no way in hell you can; Can you hear me; Can you hear me now?**_  
  
White paint flaked off onto the palms of his hands as he shoved at the church door. His nostrils flinched at the sharp aroma of urine, sweat, and cheap beer. Duo's head jerked up at the sound of whistling from the broken line of pews. Homeless men leered at him from a bed of ratty blankets and newspaper, licking chapped lips with discolored tongues. The American ignored them, launching himself instead at the confession booth. _I need this, oh please, God, make me cleanñ_  
  
"There ain't nobody in there," a weary voice issued from the pulpit. The priest pushed at his glasses, shuffling a stack of papers.  
  
"Could you then?" Duo pleaded, uncertain in these bizarr surroundings.  
  
"Could I what? Be your confessor? Forget it kid, I'm not that kinda priest."  
  
"What kind of priest are you?" the American countered, face flushed with anger and frustration.  
  
"Gimme forty bucks and I'll marry you, twice that and I'll bury you. That's all we do here, kid."  
  
"Hey, boy! I'll be your confessor!"  
  
"Me too! Hey, pretty boy, come over here, tell us all about it!"  
  
"Shut up, Brodey, or you're sleepin' outside tonight," the priest muttered irritably. "Get lost kid. There's nothin' here for you." _Nothing here for me. No salvation. No redemption. No relief. For the rest of my life, there will be no relief._  
  
 _**Afraid to break the silence in the room; Disbelieving faces stare me down; Search the world for evidence of faith; Can you hear me; Can you hear me now?**_  
  
The clatter of cutlery issued from the 24 hour diner as a waitress bussed a table. She glanced warily at the boy outside, perched motionlessly on the curb. He'd declined her offer to come inside already; she'd retaliated by pressing a steaming cup of coffee into his hands. "Must be woman trouble," she muttered, hefting her plastic tub. Tucking a graying lock beneath her hairnet, she retreated into the kitchen.  
  
Duo gazed impassively at the looming shadow of their borrowed house. Trembling fingers clutched at the crucifix at his breast, threatening to snap the chain. He wanted to tear the thing from his throat and fling it into the gutter. He could just imagine the gleam of gold as it was swept along, swirling madly into the storm drain.  
  
 _Why can't I let it go?_ He mused miserably, rubbing his thumb against the cross. It was all so typically Heero, he continued, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. _It hurt when he took me; it hurt when he let me go._ Slender fingers caressed the bruise at his cheek, stroking it's damp, blossoming surface. _Duo no baka. Don't pretend anymore. You're Death. You know nobody can love you. Just look at all the evidence._  
  
 _**Can you hear the child in tears; Whose innocence was stolen from his hands; Can you hold him in your arms; And tell him that you'll try to understand; When there's no way in hell you can; Can you hear me; Can you hear me now? Do you feel me; Do you fear me now?_


	7. Walk This Earth Alone

"You're sure about this? You're crazy, Man--just gimme a light; we're off the clock!"

"I'm telling you, I heard something!"

K'so! Fuck! Fuck! Duo crouched in the blackened crease of wall and door, weapon primed.

"So you heard something," the lazy, self assured voice oozed from the corridor. "It's a new building, what do you expect? Prob'ly another one of those doors that open when you cough. Leave it alone, Man--you wanna get laughed at?"

 _Come on, just turn around, don't come over here, please God, don't let them find me._ Sweat stung his reddened eyes, trickling from the jagged fringe of his bangs. He swiped at his brow, gun still clenched in his trembling fingers. Shimata! Too close to the barracks, can't risk the shot. _Come on, nanase, just walk away..._

"I guess you're right..."

"'Course I am. Now gimme a light man, I look like a fuckin' idiot here--"

"You are a fuckin' idiot..." The voices blurred into a haze of footsteps and laughter as the soldiers vanished down the corridor.

Duo sagged against the chill metal wall, fingers clenching the crucifix at his throat. _Heh...Guess I'm glad I kept it._ A tiny smirk curled at the bitter line of his mouth, fingers caressing the bruised surface of his cheek. So tired. The American clutched at his legs, settling his chin atop his knees. _Maybe Wufei'll find the Target first. I took Trowa's place, I wanted to be the one to risk it; but now--I'm not so sure I can do it anymore._

He recalled the cool silence of the all terrain vehicle, the numbing throb of sound through his headset as he tried to blot it out. _Heero.....Ai shiteiru. Pathetic, isn't it? It's easier to keep believing_ , he mused, clutching the cool metal of his crucifix. _God, Heero, you bastard. It hurt, it always hurts--why can't I forget_ you?

_****You're in the doors that keep revolving/ The sirens that keep screaming/ You're in the flashing of the headlights/ The things that I'm believing*****_

A black-clad figure exploded from the cross-tunnels, breast heaving, chestnut braid snaking wildly about. Gunfire erupted behind him in a mind-shattering explosion of reflected sound. Duo navigated the winding corridors with reckless speed, skidding on the slick tiles as he rounded each corner.

"Hey! Hey, you there!" The American back-peddled, slipping on the freshly waxed floor, his ankle twisting beneath him. He fired instinctively; the man slithered down the wall into a disheveled heap, blood smearing it's gleaming surface.

 _No time to steal his clothes. K'so, they're right behind me!_ Duo struggled to his feet, eyes glazing as his weight fell on the injured ankle. I don't have time for this! Footfalls thundered along the hallway, driving the braided boy into an awkward flight. Blinding light extinguished shadow, doors refused his stolen pass-code, he bruised his fists against one unyielding surface after another.

 _No way out of this one, Baka_ he laughed maniacally, confronted at last with an unfinished lift, a dead end. _Heero's gonna kill you for botching the mission. Heh. He'll probably come for you, just to finish you off._ Duo stroked the chill metal barrel against the violet-green curve of his cheek. Slowly, pensively, he turned the weapon on himself. _Maybe I'll just save you the trouble._ Duo delivered a brief, trembling kiss, savoring the chill, metallic flavor. I want to hear you say it, Heero. I know just how it would be. Low, morbid laughter bubbled from deep in his breast, a wide grin splitting his ashen face. 'Ai shiteiru, Duo. BANG!! You're dead.'

_****You're in the water that I'm drinking/ The sound of 911/ The walls that protect me/ From the damage that you've done/ In this world you are with me*****_

Slender fingers curled into trembling claws, raking at the tiled passage. The slight body arched, struggling to rise, only to collapse in a retching heap. Duo clutched at the dart embedded in his throat, only to have his wrist pinned violently to the floor. Dilated pupils gazed impassively at the cluster of men above, haloed angelically by florescent light. Large, moist palms grasped at his shoulders, clutching his legs, and he was hoisted roughly into a man's arms. Duo shoved weakly at his chest, resisting the muscular arms that crushed him, slinging him effortlessly about.

 _Don't touch me! Only Heero's allowed to...._.Unconsciousness sucked at his thoughts, blackening his vision until he was singularly aware of the arms encircling him. _I knew you'd come for me, Heero, he whispered, head lolling against the soldier's shoulder. I knew you'd be the one to take me home._

_****But I walk this earth alone/ And all I've ever known/ Is you are right beside me/ If I love you for a day/ Then blow my life away/ Could I leave you behind me****_

Cobalt eyes kept time with the rapidly scrolling data before them, the sole point of motion on the Japanese boy's face. The blue glow of the monitor, coupled with his sour expression, rendered him something sinister in the darkness. Heero glanced briefly at the narrow doorway, fingers never ceasing their rapid play across the keyboard. Trowa's one visible eye flicked in his direction, before returning to it's surveillance of the entryway.

 _This wasn't the mission profile,_ he muttered, sliding a second disk into the drive. First Quatre, and then Duo's little stunt this morning.... He'd chosen Trowa and Wufei to locate the Target and carry out the assassination, while he and Duo hacked the necessary files from the man's office. Disheveled, eyes at half mast, the American had dozed through the briefing in his boxers, oblivious to the snarling wing pilot. Later, Duo had balked at the idea of working closely with Heero, insisting that Trowa take his place.

_His arm's a bit stiff; it's true he's not at optimal performance. But Duo......neither_ are you. I saw it this morning when I looked at you. You laughed like the baka you are, you lied about your face to Trowa, you sat there and grinned like it never happened. But you're not the Duo I raised my hand to last night, the one I beat for loving me. That Duo ran from me, out into the rain; I wonder if I'll ever see him again. 

_****You're in the crashing of the windows/ The angels 'round the ceiling/ You're in the fire in my belly/ The fucked-up way I'm feeling****_

"We're running out of time," the Heavyarms pilot cautioned, glancing meaningfully at the Japanese boy.

"I know," he whispered harshly, sliding the final disk into position. _Come on, Duo, you've made the kill; quit fooling around and call me--follow the goddamn procedure!_ Heero removed the stolen data, shutting the system down with terse, angry movements. _You know you're alright, you're just being difficult, just trying to make me sorry for what I did to you. Demo, don't you see this is how it has to be? I'm doing what's best for you, Duo, I'm doing it all for you. That's why you have to call me; nanase, don't make me feel this way anymore._

 _*****You're in the warning on the label/ The pills that disappear/ The wires as_ I'm talking/ The words you'll never hear/ In this world you are with me*****

Heero clutched at the flesh of his upper arm, thick, sticky crimson bubbling between his fingers. His stride held no particular rhythm now, and his lungs burned with each ragged shuddering breath. Dogs yelped frantically in the distance, excited by the hot, metallic odor of his blood. Trowa stumbled through the brush beside him, grimly determined to reach their camouflaged vehicle. Heero's eyes narrowed in contempt.

 _Yes, go home to your little angel, he hissed bitterly, he'll stitch you up, he'll tell you he loves you, why don't the two of you fuck all over the goddamn house!_ It was time to move on anyway. Heero clenched his lower lip between his teeth, until blood trickled down his chin. _What's the point in running? he reasoned bitterly. I can't remember how to live without him anyway._

 _****But I walk this earth alone/ And all I've ever known/ Is you are right beside_ me/ If I love you for a day/ Then blow my life away/ Could I leave you behind me****


	8. Tooi Yoake

  
"Enough! You're gonna kill him, man!"  
  
"Just a bit more--I wanna wipe that smirk off his pretty face." The soldier's boot cracked against the boy's chin, baring the white throat, arching the naked breast with the force of the blow. "You like that Pretty Boy? You like it rough? I'll teach you to mouth off to me!"  
  
Trembling fingers groped for leverage, smearing scarlet patterns in their wake. Duo's wrists threatened to buckle as he thrust himself upward, breath squeezed from his lungs in a keening whine. He crouched before the bristling soldier, clenching his ribs with one hand, and steadying himself with the other. His lips curled in a grimace of pain, eyes glazed, blood oozing liberally from his mouth. Duo coughed, his body retching, spattering the floor with crimson.  
  
"That's more like it," the raven-haired officer sneered, fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette. "You'll learn to respect me, you little bastard--if you know what's good for you!" Duo responded foolishly, instinctively, his mouth twitching in a pathetic parody of Death's grin. One hand clenched into a trembling fist, and he jerked the middle digit suggestively.  
  
Slate colored eyes narrowed in fury, and the man's large, blood-slicked hand clenched at his shoulder, steadying him for the blow to come. Duo's skull cracked against the tiles, the bulk of the soldier's body crushing him, fingers clenching his throat with irresistible pressure.  
  
"C'mon Man, you better stop now, you're gonna get--"  
  
"Shut the hell up!" the officer bellowed, returning his attention to the boy pinned beneath him. "I'm gonna fucking kill you," he hissed, breath scalding his cheek, the handsome face contorted with rage.  
  
 _Do it then_ , the American challenged. _Shut up and do it, you fucking asshole! Beat me, kill me, put me out of my misery!_  
  
"That's enough," a quiet, aristocratic voice issued from the doorway.  
  
"Sir," the officer replied, glancing up from the broken body of the pilot. "I was just interrogating himñ"  
  
"I can see that," the blonde commander replied, strolling leisurely into the chamber. He thrust his hip against a nearby table, eyeing the boy appreciatively. "Put him back where you got him, at least for tonight. I have something else planned for the two of you."  
  
"You got off easy this time," the man whispered, leering into Duo's blood-streaked face. The raven-haired officer clenched his chin, running his tongue discreetly along the boy's cheek. "Mmmm," he whispered lecherously, scooping the American from the floor. "Back in my arms again, eh? Rest up, Pretty Boy." Duo's eyes squeezed shut, his bruised and broken body shuddering against the muscular torso.  
  
 _There has to be a reason,_ he rasped, violet eyes raw with unshed tears. _Solo, Sister HelenÖHeero. Kitto, there must be something wrong with me. I should take it, then, shouldn't I? That makes it all OK. Thisñthis must be what I deserve._  
  


* * *

 

The shrill scream of un-greased metal startled Wufei from his slumber. His arm leapt to shield his eyes as the door swung to, and chill light flooded his cell. Two soldiers blotted the entryway, the larger man clutching a shapeless bundle of hair and soiled black cloth. In a flurry of motion the boy pitched forward, whimpering faintly as he crumpled to the pavement. The metal door ground shut, massive bolts sliding oppressively into place.

Wufei peered at the shuddering thing, pupils dilated, affecting cool disinterest. The dull crimson of emergency lighting sparked russet in a chestnut braid, white fingers kneading blood-stiff fabric. The heart-shaped face jerked into view, cracked lips turning in a bitter smile.

"OiÖ.Wu-Man. You don't look so bad."

"Unlike you, Maxwell," the boy replied harshly, "I had the prudence to keep my mouth shut."

"HehÖPrudence. Had'ta ration that on L2. Gomen, Man; guess I got shorted."

"I fail to see the humor in my statement," Wufei grumbled irritably, glaring at the braided boy. "You manage to amuse yourself in everything and at the expense of everyone, don't you? Prudence is a valuable asset, and you certainly were shorted, otherwiseñare you listening to me?"

"HñhaiÖ" Duo wheezed subtly, eyes squeezed shut, drawing his knees into his chest. "HaiÖ.I'm listening." A low, keening cry issued from the boy's throat, trembling fingers clenching his knees tightly against him.

"Maxwell?" Wufei's cheeks flushed with an influx of concern, hands limp and uncertain in his lap. "Maxwell," he continued, bullying his limbs into motion, "kitto you didn't push them so far? Iie, Baka, let meñ"

"Daijoubu, I'm OKÖ."

"Iie. It is dishonorable to lie, Maxwell," the Chinese boy interrupted. Hesitant fingers clutched at Duo's shoulder, rolling him into the red-hued light. "How badly are you injured?" The braided boy protested, thwarting the hands that snaked along his breast, examining him.

"What difference does it make?" Duo hissed, yelping as fingers stroked cracked ribs. Wufei gathered the boy's wrists in one hand, yanking them free as he completed his task.

"You must be suffering from delirium," the Chinese boy murmured, gazing inquisitively at his comrade. "Duo Maxwell would never say such a thing. Besides," he continued distantly, "I'm certain that Yuy will come for you." A bitter cough of laughter escaped the American, the bundle of bloodstained cloth wriggling from his grasp.

"Oh, he'll come," Duo chuckled bitterly, fingers stroking his battered cheek. One hand formed a pistol; he cocked it at his head and mouthed a silent "bang!"

"Nanase, Maxwell, kitto Heero will come for you, he cares for youñ"

"Is that what you think?" Violet eyes narrowed with contempt, mouth quirking bitterly at the tips. "Heero loves me, just 'cause we kept you up one night? Heh. Well, that's OK, Man; I thought so too." Duo grimaced, one hand clenching at his ribs, the angry laughter fading.

"Just a score," he explained to a dumbfounded Wufei; "he just got drunk and fucked me, K? Just that once--nothin' else to it, nothin' else." Duo's eyes glazed as he embedded himself in the agonizing memory, gnawing at his thumb in shame. _Oh, God, please, it hurts, just make it stop!_ The keening whine returned, moisture cleansing streaks along smudged flesh as Duo wept. The Chinese boy flushed with embarrassment, lips parted in shock, fingers outstretched but motionless.

"I---Maxwell, stop, I don't---" Wufei clenched his bottom lip between his teeth. TreizeÖThat night I wept, what was it he did? Such warmth and security, it made me feelÖloved. The Chinese boy grasped awkwardly at the American's limbs, gathering the trembling boy to his breast. Duo stiffened briefly in shock, but Wufei's hands ran a soothing coarse along his back, and gradually he relented. The American buried his face in the Shenlong pilot's shoulder, rhythmically clenching his shirt.

"I'll bet your koi's really somethin', huh," Duo mumbled against Wufei's throat.

"Not really," he replied quietly, lacing his fingers in the loosened chestnut braid. Velvet-dark eyes gazed pensively at the crease of their cell.

"Sometimes," he continued, more to himself than Duo, "sometimes I wish the dawn would never come." The American drowsed quietly in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin. "AsahiÖ.that first ray of light shatters the illusions of the night before."

So we creep by night to those we love, and offer ourselves for debasement. _Oh, NatakuÖI am so unworthyÖ_ Duo wriggled in his arms, the whispered name of an absent boy lingering in the air. _Heero no baka_ , Wufei sighed dejectedly. _You're_ a fool to throw this away.  



	9. Itsumo

_Duo. Itsumo, Omae wa ore no mono da_. Teeth grazed the moist shell of the boy's ear, sound throbbing against pale skin. Liquid pooled in the hollow of his throat, gleaming faintly in the half-light. Heero lapped eagerly at the salty fluid, his tongue darting greedily out to savor his own lips.

 _Again, Heero, say it again_ , the violet eyed boy demanded, broadcasting a potent blend of wantonness and vulnerability. _Promise me_ , the lush voice trembled. _Ai shiteiru._

Cobalt eyes narrowed in contempt, and his mouth claimed Duo's with violent, malicious force. Iron fingers clenched white thighs, the soothing stroke of one thumb belying the bruising force of his grasp. Heero smirked as the braided boy arched, wrists bound securely to the cheap metal headboard. _You belong to me_ , the Japanese boy whispered harshly. _That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?_

 _H-Heero_ , Duo breathed anxiously, _I--I just want somebody to promise me_ ñThe American's eyes squeezed shut as Heero thrust, moisture trickling along the curve of his cheek.

_Itsumo. You will always be mine._

_Always_ , Duo repeated, face flushed, jackknifed beneath the body of his lover. His words degenerated into shapeless groans, punctuated by the shrill complaints of the iron bed-frame. The friction of sweat-slicked flesh enflamed his senses, the image of his toiling blue eyed angel emblazoned in his mind.

 _We will never be apart. Duo, Ai shiteiru._ The whispered declaration penetrated the thick haze of heat and pleasure, thrusting Duo into ecstasy. Violet eyes flew open in shock, his back arching, an exultation of release lingering in the hollow room. Heero groaned above him, clenching his thigh until color bloomed beneath his fingertips. Cool lips grazed the surface of his flesh as the limb was released, and the Japanese boy collapsed.

 _Oi, man, you can untie me now_ , Duo chuckled, displaying smears of raw flesh with his wriggling. _Nani?_ He demanded, smile fading in uncertainty. _Why are you lookin' at me like that?_ Heero shifted, grasping the heart shaped face and tilting it into view. His thumb smoothed the line of that delicious mouth, cobalt eyes shifting with frightening intensity across Duo's face.

 _You want us to be together forever,_ the Japanese boy mused, expressionless. _But I'm in love with your innocence._

 _Innocence?_ The American sneered, the word souring his palate. _C'mon Heero, I'm Death!_

 _No, you're not._ Curiously gentle fingers grasped at his crucifix, stroking the flesh-warmed gold. _You're experienced. But without your principles, your vulnerability,_ your loveñyou would be nothing to me. You would become me. And I would hate you for that. Duo's eyes caught a glint of silver in the darkness, widening as the blade slid into view.

_H-Heero---what are you doing??_

_You can't stay with me, don't you see? I'll destroy you._ The Japanese pilot stroked the blade contemplatively across Duo's breast, enjoying the twitching of the other's flesh. _I want you to stay like this forever, koibito. BeautifulÖ_ Heero's eyes shifted from the cross at Duo's throat to his bound hands, a lovely body trussed for crucifixion. _What a beautiful ironyÖ._

_You can't be serious! Snap out of it! Yamete, Heero--hanase! Please, Heero, I love you!_

_Ai Shiteiru, Duo,_ the Japanese boy rasped. _Omae o korosu._

* * *

"Iie!!" Heero's back snapped upright, breath short, eyes wide in disbelief. Yume? Trembling fingers grasped fistfuls of crisp, musty fabric, rhythmically kneading the sheet. Pale light flooded the dingy motel room, illuminating the crumpled disarray of the bed. DuoÖ

"You're bleeding," a calm, disinterested voice interrupted. The Japanese boy's head jerked, eyes fixing on the disheveled figure of Trowa Barton. The Heavyarms pilot glanced significantly at the span of mattress between them, encrusted with large, crimson splotches. Scowling, he grasped at his shoulder, shoving across the blankets toward their pilfered supplies. Heero unraveled a length of gauze, dangling his legs across the edge of the bed.

"You were talking in your sleep," Trowa continued conversationally, peering out from beneath a jagged fringe of bangs.

"Is this going somewhere?" the Wing pilot growled, tearing a strip of gauze with his teeth. Kitto he heard nothing. The last thing I need isñ

"You're in love with Duo, aren't you?" Heero froze, a low, ugly sneer heralding his disgust.

"Nani?" the Japanese boy spat, lips twitching in a sickly grin. "We had sex," he admitted grimly. "It didn't mean anything to me."

"You seemed relieved when you saw the newsreels running," Trowa ventured.

"I said he means nothing to me, " Heero repeated icily, latching the first aid kit with excessive force.

"If that's so," the other persisted, "why are we going back for him?"

"You want a reason? Fine. To make sure he keeps his mouth shut. I'll kill him if I have to."

"Duo lied about his face," Trowa marveled, realizing suddenly the extent of Heero's cruelty. "It was you whoñ"

"Stay out of it!" the Wing pilot cautioned grimly. "It's none of your concern."

"You cold-hearted son of a bitch," Trowa hissed, green eyes narrow with contempt. "I thought I could help you, knowing what it's like to feel nothing, trust no oneñI should have realized you're already dead inside. I'm ashamed I ever aspired to be like you!"

"You are like me," Heero sneered, desperately contradicting his accuser. "We're the same, you and I, don't flatter yourself otherwise! So I fucked Duoñit's no different than you and Quatre!"

Trowa quit the bed in a flurry of motion, toppling Heero in a tangle of naked limbs. His attacker's fist embedded itself in the Japanese boy's stomach, a second cracking against his cheekbone. Before Heero could fully retaliate, Trowa arched from the carpet, palming the bedside table.

Click! The Wing pilot froze, glaring up at the primed weapon, clutched by a trembling, furious boy. "Don't you ever compare me to you," the green-eyed boy rasped, hands shaking with restraint. "You are a coward, Heero Yuy. You destroy the ones you love."

"Why don't you pull the trigger?" Heero challenged bitterly, rising gradually to his feet. "It's like you said; I'm dead already."

"No," Trowa whispered, gradually lowering the weapon. "I know what it's like to be the 'perfect soldier'. Duo can help you, if that's what you want." The angular boy peered thoughtfully at the gun clenched in his fist. Abruptly, his gaze locked with Heero's, animalistic, menacing. "I'll never forgive you for slighting Quatre. But for his sake alone, I'll let you live."


	10. Possession

The writhing of two figures fractured the base-lit hallway, showering the walls with flickering light. Limbs coiled violently against the tiles, bright with sweat-slick flesh. A boy's slight silhouette tore free, his struggle pasted on the curved wall in spidery shadow. The officer fisted Duo's collar, yanking him up in a glistening arch of chestnut hair. One large, moist hand gripped his chin, forcing the braided boy's face into the light.

"Know what, little bastard?" the raven-haired officer breathed, running his tongue across his lips. "I don't think we're gonna make it to my place. But don't you worry," he grinned, palming the cool surface of a door panel. "I gotta place right here." Metal gave way with an irritable hiss, and the officer thrust Duo into the blackened chamber. Light flooded the cramped space with a 'click', illuminating an assortment of mops and buckets, the air acrid with cleansing agents. The pilot clenched the sharp rim of a steel table, violet eyes feral with desperation. "These storage rooms are just full of shit, aren't they? Guess you'll feel right at home."

"Stay the fuck away from me," the American rasped, fingers trembling, twitching impotently at his sides. "I said-"

"I've been thinkin' about you, Pretty Boy," the officer whispered, fingers extended. Duo's back struck metal shelving, sending the looming structure shivering. The braided boy launched himself at the door, but his wounded ankle twisted beneath him. Duo collapsed, skull striking tile, blood trickling pitifully between the squares.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead!" Flesh met flesh with a resounding crack, startling the prone boy into consciousness. Duo jerked involuntarily at the chill of steel against his naked breast, his crucifix jangling against the table. My wristsÖK'so, he's tied my wrists with my fuckin' shirt! The pilot wriggled against his bonds, eliciting laughter from his assailant. The officer's fingers closed vice-like on his shoulder, flipping Duo onto his back, thrusting his knee between his legs.

"You believe in God?" the man scoffed, grasping the golden chain and yanking Duo's face against his own. "Well, you're gonna be screamin' for him in a minute." The officer's mouth crushed the American's, tongue probing the boy's mouth, hand clenching his chin.

 _No, don't struggle_ , Duo pleaded, _it'll only make him angry_. _He busted your ribs, you're bleeding, he'll kill you, Man, just let him do it!_ Fingers hooked the waistband of his trousers, fumbling with the button. The harsh *rip* of the zipper startled the braided boy into panic, his resolution broken as a hand thrust down his boxers. Duo's teeth clenched the man's lower lip, the metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. The officer shoved instinctively, flinging the broken body into a cluster of boxes. The American crumpled, gazing vacantly up at the bristling soldier.

"Bastard!" the man hissed, swiping his lips with his wrist. Hands clenched the boy's shoulders, yanking him from the floor, positioning him for the blow to come. A single backhand flung Duo to the table, his back arching from the jagged edge. The officer flipped him effortlessly onto his stomach, pressing Duo's cheek to the cool metal surface.

 _Baka!_ Duo berated himself, eyes squeezed shut as the black fabric slithered to his ankles. _Idiot! He likes it rough, he's gonna--Oh my god, please help me! Heero, k'so, Heero, I love you, I hate you, you bastard, why couldn't you save me?_

"Pretty boy," the man hissed, breath scalding his shoulder. One hand snaked around his hip, groping at Duo's crotch, eliciting a soft, frightened, yelp. "You know," he continued conversationally, nails raking the curve of the boy's buttocks, "girls don't satisfy me at all. Fragile little thingsñplay too rough and you break 'em. But you've got a face like a fuckin' doll," he leered, fingers tracing the bruised curve of his breast. "I think you're tough enough to stand a little...rough handling." Duo twitched as the man jabbed broken ribs, rich laughter melding with the rustling of fabric.

 _Just do it, you son of a bitch, just get it over with, stop playing with me, you \-- k'so-oh-god-oh-god...._ Duo ground his lip between his teeth, a low whine of pain escaping his lips as the man thrust. Violet eyes fixed on a corner of the tiny room, glazing, consciousness dilating at the onslaught of sensation.

"Oh no you don't," the officer rasped, winding the length of Duo's braid in his fist and yanking savagely. "You're no fun if you don't fight. You like this, boy--is that it? You like gettin' fucked this way? Well, I'll just have to teach you not to spread your legs for other guys."

Duo remained half flung across the table as the man withdrew, legs open, blood trickling down his thighs. He was vaguely aware of the hiss of leather through belt-loops, the whistle of a strap slicing air. The belt licked lazily at his inner thighs, his calves, his buttocks, welting the fine white flesh. Moisture slicked Duo's cheeks, smoothing the steady jerk of his face against the table. The gray-eyed man grew weary of swinging the strap, excited by the raw, trembling figure the boy presented.

"There, there," he whispered, lapping the moisture from the braided boy's cheek. "I only did it 'cause I love you. Tell me you love me, Pretty Boy," the low voice hissed, brimming with black laughter.

"Masaka! I--Uhn!!" Raw shuddering sobs wracked the boy's body as the man redoubled his efforts with the strap. His slight chest rolled about the metal table, injured ribs sparking white-hot needles of pain. Crimson trickled along his ankles, vivid droplets congealing upon the store-room floor. _Swallow your pride baka Duo_ whispered tremulously. _Give him what he wants. Just let him take you...and maybe_ then he'll let you die. He mouthed words into the flesh of his upper arm, struggling to force them into the open. "No more...p-please, no more. I'll say it--I'll say I l-love you," Duo rasped, desperate for deliverance, for death, for anything to finish this. "I love you! Love you..." Please, just make it stop!

"Good boy," the officer crooned, thrusting brutally. "That's what I like to hear."

Duo gazed expressionlessly at the crease in the wall, oblivious to his violation, his rapist's groan of release. The braided boy waited passively as the officer yanked his trousers into place, re-threading the belt and buckling it. The man fished in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, smacking the box against his palm.

"Well, little bastard," he remarked smugly, exhaling a thick stream of smoke. "I told you I'd teach you some respect." The raven-haired man threaded moist fingers in Duo's hair, grasping his shoulder to flip him onto his back. His lips twitched at the vacant hue of those violet eyes, that insolent mouth silenced at last.

"Still believe in God?" he whispered, palming the blood-smeared crucifix. Abruptly, the officer snapped the chain from Duo's throat, startling the boy into consciousness. "This belongs to me now," he murmured, stroking the boy's lips with cool gold. "So you'll always remember." The man dipped to gather the pilot's clothing, piling the fabric on the table. Grinning, he fisted the Christian icon, tracing cross-shaped patterns on blood-smeared thighs. "I'll be back for you. So long as I wear this, Koi--you belong to me." 


	11. Burn

Four o'clock sunlight bled through the all-terrain vehicle, draping the cab with soot and dingy gold. The low rumble of ancient machinery rattled the door-locks, throbbing ceaselessly in the stale air. Long, elegant fingers grasped the stick, shoving the truck into higher gear.

"Eight hours," the green-eyed boy intoned emotionlessly, gaze pinned to the speed-streaked highway. Heero started from his vigil at the window, elbow fixed in the jamb, cheek resting on the flat of his palm. The Japanese boy grunted his approval, annoyed at the interruption.

 _Cold and civil to the last_ , he muttered, grasping a battered pack from between his ankles. _Nevermind that you despise me._ Heero rummaged through half unraveled gauze and magazines for the water bottle, scowling in frustration. _Trowa doesn't fuck with other people's business, not like he did last night. I didn't ask his opinion, I didn't ask for his help. I sure as hell didn't ask him to pull a gun on me. K'so, Quatre's really fucked him up._ The Wing pilots fingers closed on smooth, cool plastic, one edge sharp against his thumb. He withdrew the CD case, tracing it's patterned cover with his fingers.

Duo..... The bluish explosion of the oriental pattern sent a hand unconsciously to his cheek, stroking it's bruised surface. Heero flushed with the shame of it, Trowa's punishment for his callousness, his own punishment to a boy professing love. He could still recall the hot sting of flesh beneath his fist, the bloom of color on Duo's face. Eight hours of silence with him; _it isn't right. If Duo were here.......If_ he hadn't taken Trowa's place....K'so; I can't stand it anymore. Heero lifted the gleaming disk from it's case, shoving it into the dust-caked stereo, bracing himself for punishment by memory. Sound rumbled up from the speakers, startling the boy at the wheel, saturating the cab with an aura of black and menacing lust.

_****I look at you and then I see your fire/ and I'm thinking 'bout desire/ yes_ I'm thinking 'bout desire/ Telling me the things you try to hide/ and I'm burnin' up inside/ Oh how I'm burnin' up inside**** 

_I thought it was for the good of the mission,_ the Japanese pilot reasoned, cheek pressed to the window _. I thought that if I lo--cared for you....like the dream, Duo, if I were the one to kill you....I don't want to be the one to hurt you. I don't want anyone to hurt you._

Heero recalled the Heavyarms pilot, mere days ago, murmuring promises to his Angel, the one who altered him, made him this unfamiliar, pathetic--Iie. That's not it at all. _Admit it, damn you, it's jealousy. You hate him because he's not afraid to promise, you hate him because he's got Quatre waiting at home for him, and Duo's not because-_ -Cobalt eyes squeezed shut, fingers curling into a fist. _Because_ you abused him. He took Trowa's place to get away from you, that's what you did to him, that's how much he hates you. Heero bit his lip at this self-degradation, relishing the sting of it.

_****When I think about the first time that I saw your face/ I never felt this_ way/ Oh Lord I never felt this way/ And now I'm wishin' that you feel the same/ If there's any way/I'll get down on my knees and pray**** 

_Duo_ , the Wing pilot growled, tongue lapping the blood from his bottom lip. _Omae wa ore no mono da. Everyone abandons you; you want somebody to own you, somebody_ you can't escape. I want to be inside you, Koi. I want to take you like I did before, I want to take you until there's no difference between us anymore. I want to make it right, Duo. Please, let me make it right.

_****You're like a burnin' flame/ And I'll never be the same/ No I'll never be_ the same/ You're like a burnin' flame/ and I'll never be the same/ No I'll never be the same*** 

_'Are you lost niisan?' 'I've been lost all my life'_ Heero gazed impassively at the blur of tree-trunks and un-mown grass, fingers clenching the plastic case. _I wish I'd never touched you; I wish I'd never let you go. If I'd been strong enough to do either, I wonder if it could have saved you._ The waning sun sparked gold on dead grass, glistening in an endless ray along the highway. In his minds eye, callused fingers closed on a simple crucifix, drawing the braided boy close. It had been so easy to pretend, to take Duo in lust, and have it mean absolutely nothing. The American derived comfort from it after all; no need for love--no need for anything at all. _But Duo doesn't work that way,_ he realized bitterly, _and neither do you._

_****What kind of fool am I/ To want your body next to mine/I want your body next_ to mine/ I need you any time/ And I'm breakin' down inside/ Oh Lord I'm breakin' down inside/**** 

"Is there any water left?" Heero's head snapped up at the sound of Trowa's voice, startling from his thoughts. The Wing pilot realized he'd never found the bottle himself as his fingers closed on it's slick surface, and he tossed it at the boy's waiting hand. The Heavyarms pilot swallowed conservatively, placing his wrists on the wheel as he fastened the container. Heero accepted it, tucking the bottle in the folds of the pack. His fingers brushed chill metal, and he withdrew the weapon, stroking his thumb pensively against the barrel. Eight hours.

_****You cover me with all your hopeless little fantasies/ I never had before/_ No I never had before/ And now I'm livin' in my own reality/ 'Cause of the things you did to me/ Oh the things you did to me/**** 

Heero caressed the trigger of the weapon, resting unloaded against his thigh. Cobalt eyes squeezed shut, replaying the newsreel of the previous night with graphic clarity. Two pilots sat bound to their chairs, scarcely visible as a blonde, uniformed man denounced rebellion. The words dribbled meaninglessly through pale lips, an obvious ploy to launch a rescue attempt for their comrades. The officer stepped aside, followed by two soldiers, and the camera dutifully zoomed in on the victims.

Wufei gazed stoically into space, hair loose and clinging to his sweat-slicked cheeks. Color blossomed on his aristocratic face, but Heero was certain he'd not broken. Truth be told, he'd never harbored any doubts about either of them. The lens slid to the braided boy slumped in his chair, head lolling, obscuring his face from view. A gray-eyed soldier grasped a handful of chestnut hair, yanking Duo's head back. The Japanese boy's finger twitched reflexively on the trigger, mouth a fine line of fury at the memory of the American's brutalization. Blood trickled from the boy's lips, vivid in contrast to his blanched skin, the liberal smattering of swollen and bruised flesh. The raven-haired officer's fingers lingered on Duo's shoulder, his face, disturbingly possessive in a manner Heero couldn't pinpoint. _Mine! Don't you fucking touch him!_ Delirious, possibly drugged, the braided boy flinched, trembling in the shadow of this cruel and haughty man.

 _I'll kill them_ , the Wing pilot intoned viciously. _I'll kill every last_ one of them that touched you. But that one....'ksoñhe's going to suffer.

_****You're like a burnin flame/ And I'll never be the same/ No I'll never be the_ same/ You're like a burnin' flame/ And I'll never be the same/ No I'll never be the same**** 


	12. Tabidatsu

"Shhhh....lie still, Maxwell; you're dreaming." Dark fingers stroked a spill of unbound hair, Duo's cheek nestled against his thigh. The boy's shoulders jerked, fingers clasping his knees, drawing them tightly to his breast. Bruised and bloodied lips murmured incoherent pleas, whispering frantically in the darkness.

A thick sigh escaped Wufei's lips, settling heavily in the pre-dawn silence. _What sort of commander allows his men such liberties?_ he raged, easing the injured pilot to the ground. The American flinched as Wufei's arms coiled about his waist, drawing him cautiously to his chest. Sweat and musk accosted his senses, damp chestnut mingling with raven strands against the tiles. Velvet-dark eyes squeezed shut in exhaustion, forehead pressed to Duo's nape.

 _It is proper to care for my fallen comrade_ , he mused uncomfortably. _But his needs....he asked so much of me. I thought myself incapable of any sort of....tenderness_. Wufei winced, the feminine-sounding word sour against his palate.

 _When the officer took him that first time....when he threw him into this cell like a sack of meal, and he lay there trembling, trousers slick with blood, and I realized what he'd done.....Oh, Nataku, I was so frightened. I'd hoped..._ Wufei's brow creased, nostrils flared at the dark scent of sickness and terror _. I'd hoped he'd be embarrassed that I'd seen him cry. We could put this behind us, he and I, and never speak of it again._

 _And then I spoke his name, and he made that sound....._ The Chinese boy flushed with anger, fingers coiling into a white-knuckled fist. _I could hear something broken inside. I knew then I was trapped; he needed me, as a comrade and a friend. And I promise you Maxwell, one day, when I am stronger, I will find this man and avenge you._

Wufei propped himself on one elbow, gazing down at the slumbering boy beside him. Emotion tangled uncertainly with memory, words mumbled in a state of lucidity. "Heh...Wu-man; who would'a thought...." He recalled the violet eyes, gazing up at him with curious intensity before sliding shut in exhaustion. "Can't remember the last time somebody touched me like this."

 _Maxwell... I never thought I'd miss the sound of your voice._ He extended one hand experimentally, fingers tracing the bruised surface of the American's cheek. Heat radiated from the boy's feverish body, moisture trickling at his temple. _Perhaps Treize is to blame for the change in me,_ Wufei sighed, coiling a strand of hair about his fingertip. _Perhaps I've been alone too long_. Duo shifted in his arms, split lips working in silent syllables. _Yuy. Why do you long for_ a boy that abused you? He doesn't deserve you, Maxwell.

Wufei's head snapped up at the abrupt shriek of metal, the cell door sliding to with shuddering force. Shadow blotted a beam of white, back-lighting the dark figure in the doorway. The Chinese boy jerked from the floor, drawing the unconscious boy with him, huddling in the crease of the cell. The man advanced leisurely, prompting Wufei to tighten his grip on the American, drawing him protectively close.

"You're quite possessive of him," a smooth, haughty voice observed. Crimson light seeped gradually across his figure like blood, illuminating carefully groomed blonde hair. Wufei neglected to relax his grip on Duo, observing the commander's movements with rigid concentration.

The man glanced at the violet-eyed boy, irritated at his disinterest. "Oiñyou there, rise and shine! I'm talking to you!" Blue eyes narrowed abruptly, comprehension rising visibly, like water, in his gaze. "What's the matter with him?" he questioned nervously. "He's no worse off than you; why doesn't he wake?"

"You have no honor," the Chinese boy hissed quietly, drawing a blank expression from the commander. "Do you truly have so little control over your soldiers that they commit such atrocities, or do you consider rape a form of interrogation?"

"Rape?" A slow, lecherous smile curled at his lips, revealing a row of even, white teeth. "You're both going to die soon anyway; what difference does it make? I knew my Second fancied him," he continued easily, nudging at Duo with his boot. "If he hadn't, perhaps I would have. He's a pretty thing; but I don't take other people's left-overs." The pale eyes widened as the American coughed, body retching in Wufei's arms, blood trickling from his lips. "Perhaps he went too far," the man reflected irritably, brow creased with thought. "Wake him. There's a tele-cast in an hour, and he's useless as he is. Go onñyou heard me. Do it now!"

"He will not wake," Wufei replied rigidly; "he's dying."

"You'll wake him or I'll do it for you!" the commander snapped, white skin flushed with outrage.

"Iie. You will not touch him while I live," the Chinese boy announced stonily, astounded at his own words, and the conviction behind them. The commander reacted instinctively, unused to denial, consumed by the fear of failure. Wufei's head snapped back beneath the blow, skull striking the metal wall. "If you kill me," the boy slurred, swiping blood from his mouth onto his sleeve, "I'll be useless to you."

"I don't have to kill you to get what I want," the man replied, trembling with rage and uncertainty. There had been far too many miscalculations, embarrassments, mistakes. The telecast was necessary, vital; this failure would sacrifice more than his career.

"On the contrary," Wufei slurred, "you do. I will not allow you to harm him; I will force you to kill me, If I must. Nanase. Delay your telecast until he wakes."

"I make the decisions," he sneered, grasping the battered boy by the collar.

"Your power is illusion," the Chinese boy whispered, dark eyes inches from seething blue. "You command respect from no one." The blonde man exploded in a flurry of motion, backhanding the Shenlong pilot, the slight body crumpling in a heap of dingy white. Wufei's fingers groped at the slick floor, struggling, failing miserably. Far too weak to carry out this bluff....I am sorry, Maxwell. Trembling, the commander fisted a handful of chestnut hair, yanking Duo viciously close.

"Iie....hanase...." Sound welled up in the American's throat as he was jostled roughly about, bubbling past his lips incoherently. "Masaka....I don't...don't love you..." Laughter spilled from the blonde man's throat, amusement at this beautiful boy, secrets falling lucidly from his lips.

"Too bad he's already had you," the commander murmured thoughtfully, fingertips streaking dust-smeared cheeks. "I would've enjoyed breaking you myself." Blue eyes slid to the prone figure of the Chinese boy, evaluating, hands entangled in the American's hair. "Perhaps I'll enjoy you later. What do you think of that, rebel boy?"

The chill, calculating gaze closed on the American's prone figure, the ashen tint of his flesh. One palm closed on Duo's face in a resounding slap, his cheek flushed with a scarlet hand-print. "Come on, boy, snap out of it!" He pressed the broken body to the tiles, hovering above the Shinigami pilot, shaking him by the fabric of his shirt. "Wake up, damn you! K'so!" One fist arched, gathering speed to crack against Duo's face.

"Omae o korosu."

Wufei's neck strained at the dark whisper, his dark head rising in a mass of tangled black and crimson. His eyes fixed on a smear of black, the flickering of light through frantic limbs, a glimpse of green in the darkness. YuyÖ

Heero's fist relaxed gradually, releasing the collar of the man beneath him. The blonde man's glazed blue eyes gazed vacantly at the ridged ceiling, blood staining his lower lip. The Japanese boy rose with a sneer of disgust, whirling about in a fluid, rather menacing motion. Cobalt eyes narrowed at the sight of Chang Wufei clutching his one-time lover. Warily, the Chinese boy transferred Duo to the Wing pilot's arms, accepting his gun in turn.

"It's 03:00; guards are sparse," Heero intoned emotionlessly, clutching his burden close. Trowa's taking point by the lifts; he'll clear the way to the truck. All we have to do is follow." Wufei glared at the dark line of Heero's back, mouth a fine line of disapproval.

"Take care, Yuy," he muttered sharply, unable to help himself. "He's badly wounded; it's dangerous to move him like this."

"It's over," Heero grunted irritably, finality in his tone. "There's a medi-kit in the truck. He'll be fine."

_No, Yuyñhe won't. We may reach the transport and find Maxwell the medical attention_ he requires. Perhaps he will regain what was taken from him--but I fear it's already much too late. 


	13. Midnight Sun

Pale light pooled in the crease of the windowsill, flooding the room in a wash of muted silver. White rivulets bathed a span of chestnut hair, rippling like kelp about the pallid, upturned face. Dark fingers traced reverent patterns on cool flesh, exploring the softness of the boy's cheek. The American flinched abruptly, struggling beneath the Wing pilot's weight. Heero's body jerked upright, the wooden chair screeching slightly against the floor.

"Duo? Daijoubu?" Cobalt eyes peered sleepily at the feverish boy, rubbing the cheek so recently pressed to the other's breast. Violet eyes shifted rapidly beneath moist lids, breath squeezed audibly from fluid-filled lungs. Yume, Heero noted grimly, features sharp with disappointment.

"Shhhh," he whispered hesitantly, glancing at the doorway in a brief surge of embarrassment. Bakayaro, he rebuked himself. _You should follow your feelings. Where is the shame in this?_ Duo stilled beneath Heero's soothing palms with a low, shuddering exhalation. The Japanese boy lowered his torso to the bed once more, settling himself against his lover. _I will be here when you wake._ __****As I watch you flickering slowly/ In the shadows nothing to hold/ It's as if I don't recall our time before/ And would it be so wrong/ Not to remember****

Dark eyes gazed pensively at the slack face, heavy-lidded with exhaustion. Duo's breast lay comfortably beneath his cheek, warming him like sun-baked brick, pulse throbbing in Heero's ear. One arm extended lazily, fingers outstretched as he bathed them in the warmth of the American's breath. His gaze fell on the slightly parted lips, features drawn in frustration.

So pale.....so silent....One thumb traced the line of his lower lip, tugging childishly at the boy's mouth until it resembled the familiar grin. Heero withdrew his hands; Duo's face fell slack and emotionless once more. _Terrible, the thought of you_ without it. K'so, Duo. Kizutsuitemo egao wasurenai. Don't forget your smile.

_****There are times I look at you differently/ Like I've never seen you before/_ Funny after all we've done, you could be someone/ I don't know at all. Don't know you at all**** 

The slight creak of the door startled Heero from his reverie, the lean body snapping upright instinctively. The Japanese boy fisted the gun on Duo's blanket, sighting as the figure moved gradually into the bedroom. Light pooled abruptly across Wufei's face, illuminating an expression of mild disapproval.

"I said leave us alone," Heero growled menacingly, neglecting to lower the weapon. "I told everyone--"

"I'm leaving on reconnaissance tonight," the Chinese boy interrupted, fingers tracing the straps of his pack. "I'll leave when I've spoken my mind, Yuy, and not before." Heero's eyes narrowed, but he suffered himself to release the weapon, fisting Duo's hair in consolation. Wufei's aristocratic features softened slightly, a soft sound of approval escaping his lips.

"You've played hatred so convincingly," he murmured, glancing at the unconscious American. "I'm pleased to see you're being honest with yourself at last."

"Ch'. What the hell do you know?" Heero sneered, inexplicably threatened by Wufei's presence.

"Nanase, Yuy. I know you love him."

_****Catch me I don't wanna fall/ But you pull the mountain from under me/ Look_ I'm dangling up in the blue/ And it's a cartoon kind of eternity/ Before I drop down to you/ What am I supposed to do now?**** 

"I don't need your help," the Japanese boy snapped, glaring at the hand clenching his arm. Wufei stood inches from the bristling pilot, more than willing to risk Heero's wrath for the American's sake. Images of a raven-haired boy clutching his lover drove the Wing pilot to distraction. He clutched at the Chinese pilots fingers, peeling them from the surface of his flesh.

"He'll be fine. We'll both be fine." The Wing pilot radiated possession, proclaiming his ownership of Duo with tone and gesture.

"No, he won't," the Shenlong pilot murmured, pinning Heero with a significant glance. "Listen to me, Yuy. If you care anything for him, you listen to me. Maxwell is not a conquest, a prized possession, a well-trained dog on a leash!" Wufei's voice grew slightly raw, the words recycled from a painful memory. Trieze never learnedÖI'm not certain Heero's any better. "When he wakes," Wufei sighed, "he'll be terribly fragile for a time."

"Why should he be fragile?" Heero interrupted irritably. "His ribs are broken, not his head."

"It's not my place to say," the Chinese boy replied severely, annoyed at Heero's bleak humor. "But abuse him as you did before, and you will destroy him. And if you harm him, you will have me to answer to. I will hunt you down, Yuy. You have my word on it."

Heero's eyes flashed briefly in surprise, his expression shifting rapidly to fury. _K'so, is he challenging me?_ He reacted instinctively, winding the boy's shirt in his fist and yanking him close.

"What is he to you?" he whispered harshly, thrusting the Chinese boy to the moldering wall. Plaster flaked from the watermarked ceiling, glistening faintly in the moonlight.

"No Yuy," Wufei responded harshly, gazing boldly at the Japanese pilot. "What's he to you? That's all that matters." Heero's fist uncoiled slowly, comprehension rising with each iron digit. The Chinese pilot sagged slightly as the boy released him, smoothing his clothing with forced nonchalance.

"I'm not going to fight you for his affections," Wufei announced, gathering his pack from the floor. "He loves you, and I desire Maxwell's greatest happiness. Besides....I have issues of my own to resolve."

_****There is something beautiful shining/In the fall of light in your hair/ Funny_ for a while it seemed to come from the sky/ But it's in your head/ Yes it fills your head/**** 

Duo....Alone with youÖthis is where I belong....Heero's fingers stroked the American's lips, gazing at the silvery windowpane. "Okaeri Heero," he whispered to himself, burying his face in the fall of heated chestnut. "Welcome home." Cobalt eyes glanced briefly at the hardwood floor, the shape of Wufei's departing footprints in the dust. _If I'd never left himÖIf I never let him goÖDuo, DuoÖlook what I've done to youÖI will carry this guilt forever._

_****You and I don't always fly/ Let me go I wanna fall/ Deep into the dark/ But_ I'll come back to you/ And I'll always know how to find you/ Cause you shine like the midnight sun**** 


	14. Enlightenment

Thick straps slithered from callused fingers, striking the floor in a upsurge of dust. The Japanese boy's nostrils flared, one wrist darting to swipe at his face. Heero nudged the pack with his foot, scooting it clear with one blood-spattered boot. A single door loomed before him, narrow, paint flaking scale-like across it's surface. One palm closed on the warped knob, hesitant, thumb stroking the upper curve.

 _Baka_ , Heero bullied himself; _What are you afraid of?_ He forced his hand to function, twisting, pushing, eyes dilating at the influx of light from the boy's room. His fingers darted to shield his eyes, and he peered between them into the bedroom.

Thick bands of crimson streamed through the window, gathering in the myriad folds of Duo's sheets. The American sat cross-legged, his back turned to the doorway, oblivious to Heero's presence. The low, rich voice rambled quietly through a melancholy tune, punctuated with random ripples of soft dry laughter.

The Wing pilot clenched the doorway, his body sagging helplessly against the frame. Cobalt eyes examined the curve of the boy's naked shoulders, the chestnut braid tangled in the bedclothes. Duo clutched the blue blanket to his chest with his left hand, the right extended, stroking the blood-hued glass.

"Duo," the Japanese boy rasped, startling the American from his reverie.

"Heero!," he exclaimed softly, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Okaeri. It's been a while ne? Ninmu kanryou, I guess." The violet eyes narrowed slightly, though the grin stayed firmly in place. "I was worried about you, Man. I woke up--Quatre said I slept for days--and I asked for you, but you'd already split. Oi, don't look like that, Man! It's like I told him; can't keep a guy like you pinned down, ne Heero?"

"I would have stayed with you," Heero ground out bitterly, startling Duo with his conviction. "I tried to help you--"

"Hai," the American rasped thoughtfully. "Quatre told me." Silence descended languidly, blanketing the tiny room in one irresistible sweep. Duo toyed uncomfortably with the fringe of his braid, averting his eyes from the agitated boy before him.

"You moved your bed," Heero remarked neutrally, body straining into the bedroom, though his fingers still anchored him to the doorway. _Move, baka! Go to him! There's nothing to stop you now!_

"Aa," Duo murmured softly, gaze shifting to the lean, dust-streaked window. "It's beautiful, ne?" he whispered, fingers tracing patterns on the sun-baked panes. "Like a stained glass window.....Heh; betcha' think I'm crazy, eh Heero? I'm a colony brat," he explained, lips turned in a bitter smirk. "This town can go to hell for all I care. But it's got two things going for it. It rains like there's no tomorrow, and it packs a gorgeous sunset."

_Sunset? I see the light sparking russet in your hair....the way it stains your_ throat and shoulders....K'so, Duo. It's you I see. I don't give a damn about the weather. 

"Heero?" the American choked uncertainly, clutching the blanket to his breast as the other approached. The Japanese boy stopped, poised motionlessly mere feet before the bed, lips parted as if to speak. "Nani? Oi, man, what is it? Why're you looking at me like that?"

The wing pilots mouth worked uncertainly, clamping down at last on whatever he meant to say. His fingers grasped at Duo's braid, fingering the soft curl of hair at the tip. The American shrank beneath the weight of Heero's gaze, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. The dark-haired boy moved gradually closer, approaching him cautiously as though he might bolt from sheer terror--and the thought had certainly occurred. Worn fingers extended, brushing the curve of Duo's cheek, tracing the broken smudge of a fading bruise. The braided boy flinched involuntarily from his touch, one hand twitching with the need to strike before he wedged it beneath himself, resigned to suffer in silence. _Duo no baka. This is Heero. He doesn't care, so why should he hurt you again?_

"Duo....." The soft, dry exhalation startled him, securing his undivided attention. The dark eyes shone with something raw and vibrant, curiously moist in the waning light. The rough palm cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the only visible evidence of brutality.

"Nani? You wanna borrow my deodorant, your shorts are too tight, what?

"Duo.....I'm sorry."

"You're what?" Duo's face sharpened, bitterness tugging the line of his mouth into a broad grin. "You. You're sorry. Ha! That's a good one. It's a little late for April Fools, isn't it Yuy?" Vulnerability fled the Japanese boy's face in the wake of Duo's mockery, cheeks flushed with anger and humiliation. He grasped at the tattered V of the boy's blanket, yanking the American close despite his cry of protest.

"Listen to me," Heero whispered harshly. "Just _shut the fuck up_ and listen to me!" Duo trembled slightly, cocooned by the blankets clenched tight in the Wing pilot's fist. Wide violet eyes gazed guilelessly up at him, lips parted slightly in shock. "I'm sorry Duo. That night when weÖwhen we _made love_ ," he continued brokenly, recalling the American's word for the act, "it...meant something to me. It meant....." Heero's head jerked into shadow as he gathered his thoughts, eyes fixed on the knot of gnarled blanket in his fingers.

"What did it mean then, Heero," Duo murmured distantly, lips curved rather sadly at the tips. "Seems we were pretty clear on that last time, ne?"

"Duo....Gomen, I--"

"You what Heero? You didn't mean to fuck me? Your promise was just the liquor talking right? You--"

"--Ai shiteiru!" Heero's mouth fell open in shock at the braided boy's response, fabric slithering free from his fingertips. Harsh, self depreciating laughter welled up in Duo's throat, spilling uncontrollably from his lips.

"You love me? Heero no baka, there's no such thing as love." Cobalt eyes narrowed in fury and frustration, his hard earned declaration discarded so easily by this beautiful, difficult boy.

 _It's his pride talking_ , the Japanese boy reasoned angrily, _it has to be. He told me he loved me once...how can a feeling like this ever fade away? Gomen, Duo, you'll fight me for this I know, but if I can prove it to you, if I can make you tremble for me like you did the night I took you, I know I can win you back. We'll put all of this behind us, and I'll tell you I love you as often as you like, whatever it takes, Duo, so long as it makes you mine._

The stream of harsh laughter choked in the American's throat as the bed squeaked beneath Heero's weight, and he found himself tossed abruptly on his back.

"Heero!" he croaked, eyes wide with apprehension. "Heero, Man get off me! Don't pin me down like this--fuck, man, lemme go!" The Japanese boy's hand closed over Duo's mouth, cobalt eyes skimming the pale flesh beneath him, before replacing his palm with his lips. A low, grating moan escaped the braided boy, his wrists straining against Heero's iron grip as though torn between struggle and submission. The Wing pilot broke for air, gazing down the flushed face, smirking faintly as Duo lapped at his own lips. The moment his fingers gripped the hem of his green shirt, however, the American sucked in a breath of apprehension.

"Please, Heero," he pleaded urgently, an air of desperation coloring his features. "Please, please don't do this to me. Please!" Duo's eyes widened in abject terror as Heero discarded his shirt, descending to peel the blanket from the braided boy's body.

"Fuck, stop it you bastard!" he screeched, the rich voice cracking with strain, struggling with increased violence. Something snapped in the American's mind, reason overwhelmed by an influx of sensation and memory. He tore viciously at the Japanese boy, pummeling him with his fists, straining with his fingernails as his wrists were locked once more in Heero's grip. A bloodcurdling scream escaped his lips as his fingers strained, raking at his assailants flesh, crimson welling beneath his nails.

His limbs recoiled as Heero released him, winding about his flesh until he sat trembling, knees pressed to his breast. The Wing pilot perched quietly at the edge of the bed, stunned, his fingers drawn to the mild ache at his cheek. He drew the hand away, gazing impassively at the trickle of fresh blood, before smearing it onto his shirt.

"Duo?" he whispered, terrified of the broken thing before him, of the thought he'd made him this way. "Gomen, Duo, I didn't meant to...." To what? Heero mused uncomfortably, fingers toying with a crease of white starched fabric. _Are you so afraid I'll hurt you?_

Violet eyes slid open, one hand extending to grasp a handful of blanket and draw it close. Gently, mindful of the slightest tremor, Heero adjusted the cloth about the boy's slight shoulders. The American gazed at the Wing pilot with a kind of curious intensity, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"Your face....." The beautiful eyes shamed Heero, downcast with embarrassment, gazing at the red caked fingernails. "I didn't mean to....I couldn't help it. You shouldn't do that, Man, I warned youÖ"

"But why?" Heero whispered, blood trickling along the curve of his neck. "I thought you were being stubborn, I thought if I just....if I could just....K'so."

"Ahh....Heh, Wufei never told you, did he," Duo remarked softly, sinking gradually back against a nest of pillows. "Seems I'm too charming for my own good, ne?" he laughed softly, relaxing so that the blanket slipped to his waist. "That last mission was just full of surprises, huh Heero? Found all sorts of talents I never even knew I had. Seems I even make a good ash tray," he grinned, fingertip circling a burnt-out ring of flesh. He was aware of the instant realization hit, broadcast in the tick of Heero's mouth, the reflexive twitching of his trigger finger.

"That fucking officer," the Japanese boy murmured, more to himself than to Duo. "Black hair, gray eyes....I saw him on the telecast. I saw the way he touched you." Cobalt eyes glanced up abruptly, fast enough to catch the pained expression on the other's face. Duo's fingers leapt to his throat, intending to catch the length of a non-existent chain in between thumb and forefinger. They fell away at once, defeated.

"Your crucifix," Heero remarked softly, brow furrowed with thought.

"Don't worry about it," the American shrugged nonchalantly, eyes fixed on the crimson-gold wash of the waning day. "It's just like all the other promises nobody bothered to keep. The promise of a just and merciful God, the promise of love and redemption. The promise of best friends, a family at Maxwell Church-- even the promise of a lover. To hell with it, Man. Who needs a symbol of promises nobody ever keeps."

 _You don't mean that,_ Heero mused silently, following the braided boy's gaze into the sky. _I'll find that bastard officer, I'll make him scream for mercy,_ I swear it. I'll keep my promise to you, Duo Maxwell. Ai shiteiru. 


	15. Hansei

"Ahhh....Sugoi...." A slight smile played at the tips of the blonde boy's mouth, blue eyes at half mast. Languidly, Quatre lifted his hand, raking slender fingers through sweat-dampened hair. Slight shoulders wriggled against the hard line of the tub, shifting downwards until soap-drifts tickled his chin. Steam issued in thick curling sheets from the scalding bath, enveloping the tiny room in lush humidity. Mmmm...at last. Peace and quiet. I--NANI? _Oh, Duo, not again._

A familiar refrain exploded along the corridor, vibrating softly against the fixtures. The smile crumbled at the sound of it, a single track looping endlessly on Duo's battered stereo.

_/Why do I think about/ Why do I think about/ All the things that you can't do for me/_

The blonde pilot worried his lower lip between his teeth, lyrics rattling about his aching skull.

_/I don't believe in my responsibility/ I don't believe in anything you say is_ true/ I don't believe in any kind of charity/ And I don't believe in you/ No I don't believe in you/ 

"Hidoi," he exhaled softly, palm lingering on his nape, smoothing the tense line of his shoulders. "Shimatta.... Oh Duo, I wish Heero were here. I can't do anything for you." Blue eyes squeezed shut in exhaustion, throat exposed as his head lolled back against the tiles.

 _Baka,_ he reflected miserably, _you never stop laughing do you? I tried, Duo, I tried to be there for you. But you hid behind that grin of yours and wouldn't let me in. You teased me, didn't you, and laughed at me while you did it. Maybe you meant well, Duo....but it didn't feel that way. My heart tells me there's something terribly wrong with you._

Quatre sighed, discouraged, fingers yanking the fringed edge of a washcloth. _We're friends Duo, at least I thought we were. I know you didn't mean to be cruel. But that look in your eyes....I swear I've seen it somewhere before. If I could just remember where..._

The blonde boy's thoughts dissolved, eyes closed, breath mingling with the faint sizzle of expiring bubbles. Liquid warmth enveloped him, lapping at the tip of his chin, flushing the fine white skin. His brow creased briefly as the door swung quietly to, cool air ruffling his pale hair. The serpentine columns of steam fluctuated, shielding Quatre, soothing him back into slumber. He shifted, head resting on the v of his arm, oblivious to the boy poised silently in the entryway. Long, elegant fingers closed on his slight shoulders, drawing him forward in the bath. A thick sigh escaped the blonde boy's lips, and he fell back against the skilled hands, tension dissipating.

"Nnnn Trowa," he moaned softly, blue eyes fluttering open. His lips curved in a tired smile, body shifting to allow better access. "I'm so lucky to have you, Koi. You always know just what I need."

"You worry too much," the Heavyarms pilot whispered, more to himself than to Quatre. The blonde boy chuckled softly, rewarding Trowa with a wry smile.

"It's what I'm here for, ne?" he murmured wistfully, snuggling back against the damp line of the other's chest. Strong slim arms enveloped him, Trowa's breath warm against his cheek. "Whatever happened to Duo....kitto it must've been terrible. It must have been to change him so."

"Aa," the green-eyed boy whispered, gaze fixed in the neutral safety of a corner.

"Do you think.....ne, Trowa, do you think he'll be alright? In time? When he's healed enough, when Heero comes home again?"

"Duo's a survivor," the taller boy remarked sharply, fingers tensing against Quatre's flesh. "Strong enough to get through this on his own. Heero's got nothing to do with it."

"Trowa?" the blonde boy sputtered, startled by the raw enmity in the other's voice. "Demo--I thought you liked Heero, respected him--"

"Hai," the green-eyed boy replied harshly, fingers toying with a lock of pale hair. "The perfect soldier." The finest example of what I longed to be....Immune to everything, secure in the present, nothing but ninmu ryoukai and kanryou. But you, Angel...Oh, it's confusing and frightening what you do to me, but it feels so....I feel so--

"Daijoubu ka?" Quatre shifted in the bath, sitting cross-legged, knees rising above a froth of bubbles. One small hand rose tentatively, palming the other's cheek. Trowa captured the slick fingers against his face, mouth flickering in a microscopic smile.

"You worry too much," the Heavyarms pilot repeated softly, right thumb tracing the line of Quatre's mouth.

"Iie, Koi. Not when I'm with you." The blonde pilot's fingers curled lightly about Trowa's nape, drawing the taller boy irresistibly forward. The Heavyarms pilot flinched slightly in surprise as the boy's mouth brushed his own, tongue stroking the line of his bottom lip.

"C'mon Tro-chan" he whispered, grinning as the boy's face flushed with embarrassment. "You said I worry too much. Why don't you help me relax?" Quatre fisted a handful of dark fabric, anchoring Trowa in place as he explored the inner recess of the other's mouth. A low groan rumbled up from the depths of the dark-haired pilot's chest, eyes squeezing shut. His hands fumbled obediently with his shirt, yanking it free and tossing it carelessly aside. Slick fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans, twisting at the button, yanking the thick fabric loose from narrow hips.

Quatre glimpsed the lean expanse of the other's back as he turned to grasp the light-switch, a network of long white scars Trowa hurriedly cloaked in darkness. _Iie, Koi. You're beautiful. Why won't you let me see?_

The water rose as Trowa sank into the bath, sloshing onto the tiles. Pale yellow light issued from a cracked nightlight, glistening in the soap-drifts, the water pooling on the floor. Quatre rose to his knees, blue eyes glazed, mouth turned seductively in a half-smile.

"Nnn, Trowa. Ai shiteiru." Pale arms draped about the green-eyed boy's shoulders as the blonde pilot settled on his lap. The hot insistent mouth closed on Trowa's neck, teeth grazing his flesh, tongue settling in the hollow of his throat. Quatre shifted slightly, fingers clenching the other's thigh, thumb stroking the pale soft flesh. The dark-haired boy's body responded, sex thumping lightly against the blonde pilot's buttocks. Pasting an angelic smile on his face, the Winner heir's fingers curled around the shaft, eliciting a soft groan from it's owner.

Abruptly, Trowa reacted, grasping his wrist and yanking it from the water. Green eyes flashed open, gazing at Quatre with a kind of frenzied disbelief, a thing that bordered on fear. The blonde boy stuttered an apology, but Trowa's fingers closed on his mouth, insistent, pressing the slight body back against the tiles. _For you, I would do anything,_ the Heavyarms pilot chanted desperately, a silent litany for courage and for strength.

Quatre's head lolled helplessly as skilled lips closed on one nipple, fingers tormenting the other. He squirmed uncontrollably as Trowa's tongue delved the sensitive hollow of his navel, hands fisting beneath the water. The green-eyed boy paused, raking fingers through the fall of dark sweat-slick hair. The blonde boy lay sprawled before him, knees raised, throat exposed.

Admiration swelled within him as he gently cupped the boy's groin, rolling the soft weight of his testicles between his fingers. Quatre panted breathlessly, thrusting his hips in wanton offering. Hands grasped at his thighs, buttocks, lifting him, erection thrust free of the murky water. Lips closed on the tip of his sex, nibbling, tongue drilling into the tiny opening. Trowa's eyes squeezed shut, relaxing as he slipped the boy's cock further into his throat, struggling not to gag. _Anything,_ anything, ai shiteiru, I would do anything. Quatre's hands tangled loosely in his hair, hips making tiny thrusts into the hot wet recess of his lover's mouth.

"Nnn, oh God Trowa, please don't stop!"

The Heavyarms pilot followed the familiar arc of the blue-eyed boy's passion, apparent even behind his eyelids, white flesh trembling, desperate for release. The small, delicious mouth dropped open in a soundless "o", chest heaving as Trowa quickened his strokes. Quatre shuddered violently, fingers clenching his hair, hips jerking uncontrollably. Fluid coursed into the dark-haired pilot's mouth, and he swallowed easily, well-accustomed to the taste. Green eyes darted to the blonde boy's face, gazing in silent admiration at the fine, flushed skin, the lingering expression of ecstasy.

_So beautiful....Why do you--how can you? Iie, kitto if you knew you wouldn't want me....No one could ever want me._

Quatre's eyes fluttered open, lips curving in a slow, luxurious smile. It faltered at the vacant expression of the boy before him, but he tacked it more firmly into place. _This is Trowa,_ he reminded himself, fingers tracing the line of the silent boy's mouth. _How many months before he'd let you kiss him? How long before he'd kiss you back?_

Quatre wriggled slightly against the stiffness beneath him, experimenting. Iie, he doesn't like it. He'll go soft the second I try it. With a tiny huff of frustration, the blonde pilot slid between the taller boy's legs, slipping the tip of Trowa's sex into his mouth. _Some day, Koi, I'm gonna have you inside me._

* * *

Water sloshed feebly about the rim of the tub as Quatre snuggled against his lover's chest. One hand tangled gently in Trowa's, his head pressed to the Heavyarms pilot's shoulder. The taller boy's breast rose and fell softly beneath him, heartbeat strong and steady.

Light shone faintly beneath the doorway, issuing from no doubt from Duo's room. Quatre's cheeks flushed faintly in embarrassment, and he tucked his head into the crook of Trowa's arm. Music throbbed faintly along the corridor, no longer muted by the clamor of sex.

_/Why do I think about/ Why do I think about/ All the things that you can't do for me/_

_Why, Duo,_ he whispered dejectedly, fingers tracing patterns on the green-eyed pilot's flesh. _When you're home again, well again, when Heero loves you?_ Memory flickered, the shuttered gaze of a bitter, wounded boy, and his mouth fell open in shock. _That look in your eyes...I knew I'd seen it before._

Pale fingers brushed the slack line of Trowa's lips, his own trembling slightly with grief. _That moment, after he made love to me....that expression, a boy trapped_ in the past, staring at the face of a man who abused him, not me....Someone he can't forget. K'so.... It's the same look I see in Duo. 


	16. Kagayaku

"Hidoi. Hidoi ne?" Elegant fingers toyed with the grooved curve of a tumbler, spinning in slow pensive circles. Light flickered rapidly before him, the monitor casting a pale blue haze upon his flesh. The general's right hand traced the plane of the braided boy's face, mouth a fine line of displeasure.

"Yet another shooting star. They burn so brilliantly, these tragic young soldiers. They struggle valiantly for a little while, only to plummet from the sky in a blaze of fire, beautiful, defiant to the last. " The dull clatter of glass on burnished wood shattered the silence in endless cycles. Terrible, the expression on that boy's face. And next to him, my young dragon, proud, defiant, unshakableÖIt could so easily have been him. Treize flicked the monitor off with one finger, disgusted with his own impotence.

"You have grown soft, General," the man lamented to himself, a thick sigh escaping his lips. His gaze drifted to the tumbler, almost amused at his lack of discipline. He'd abandoned fine wine in favor of hard liquor, desperate to cleanse the taint of guilt and dishonor from his memory.

"Iie. Even in this, there will be no release." Lamplight penetrated the rich liquid, staining his wrist with crimson. Dark liquid sloshed about the rim, splashing his fingers with fine sparkling drops. Treize gazed thoughtfully at the tiny, scarlet beads, drawing his finger to his lips. Burning and bitter-sweet.

A faint scuffling issued from the corridor, startling him from his reverie. Unconcerned, Treize raised his glass between two fingers, tilting it leisurely to his lips. _Hmm. It isn't Zechs or UneÖWell, I'm in no mood for visitors. If he knocks, I'll send him away._ The door swung open without warning, and a slim bitter smile crossed his lips. _Okaeri koibito._

"Back so soon?" Treize questioned lightly. "You disappoint me. I thought surely you'd hold out longer this time."

"Don't patronize me," the Chinese pilot retorted, poised motionless in the doorway. He stood ready, sword in hand, yet powerless to approach his opponent. "I'm your enemy General; I'm not your plaything." The smile tightened slightly as Treize swiveled in his chair, eyes cool with disapproval. The blade trembled slightly in Wufei's fist, the aristocratic face flushed with anger.

"A rematch then," Kushrenada sighed wearily. "Couldn't it wait until morning? I'm in no shape for sparring, as you can see." _Although I'd gladly spar between the sheets,_ he thought lecherously. The older man gazed thoughtfully at the Shenlong pilot, moistening his lips with his tongue.

"You're drunk," Wufei hissed, sword dangling helplessly at his side. "God-damn you, you're drunk!"

"And what if I am?" Treize challenged quietly, swallowing a mouthfull of scalding liquid. The glass clattered gently to a halt against the table. "A man may do as he likes on his own time." Wufei flushed at the expression on the general's face, fingers worrying the hilt of his sword. Treize rose slowly, advancing gradually on the Chinese pilot.

"Iie!" Wufei stuttered, blade darting between them. "Iie. You won't seduce me again."

"Seduce you?" Treize laughed softly; "Is that what you call it, Dragon? Is that what you believe?"

"I challenged you in the name of justice," the Chinese boy argued," and youñyou defeated me. The day was yours. I begged you to end my life, to honor me in defeat, but you refused me that. You poured me your wine, fed me with promises, decieved me into your bed! You've dishonored me Kushrenada, and you do so again, denying me justice because of thisÖthisñ" Wufei's sword leapt in a sharp arc, shattering a dwindling supply of liquor. Treize gazed at the glistening shards of glass, observing in silence as crimson liquid seeped into the carpet. He glanced up abruptly, features lax, emotionless save for the harsh line of his mouth.

"Have you forgotten what you were Chang Wufei?" he questioned softly. "How it was when you came to me, spouting that tired rhetoric of honor and justice? You were miserable in your solitude, desperate for companionship, pleading for death, not for honor as you say, but for release. I gave you what you asked for, Dragon," Treize murmured, tone softening with remembrance. "You needed comfort, and I held you. You asked for companionship, and I devoted myself to you. You wanted someone to love you, and Iñ"

"Iie!," Wufei bristled suddenly, mouth curled in a snarl of contempt. "You didn't. You lied to me. You used me. The guilt I've suffered for you, Kushrenada, the humiliationÖ" The Chinese boy's gaze fell briefly to the floor in thought, face expressionless.

"Are you ashamed then, Dragon, to be my beloved?" Abruptly the boy's eyes flicked back to Treize, smoldering with fury.

"You don't love me, General," he snapped angrily. "You want me. And even that's not enough to keep your eyes from straying. I've seen the way you watch that young officer." Surprise washed briefly over the older man's face, replaced by a condescending grin.

"Well then, which is it Chang Wufei?" he asked leisurely, folding his arms across his chest. "Did you leave me for principle--or was it jealousy?"

"Jealousy?" Wufei sputtered out, lips parted in outrage.

"Come now," Treize sighed wearily, realizing he'd pushed the boy too far. "Do you really think so little of me? Nanase my proud one, my lonely one. Betrayal was furthest from my thoughts. Perhaps I did consider Zechs, if only for a moment, in your absence. It's a man's nature to look, after all. And besides, Dragon," he noted almost playfully, "it's my duty to be aware of everything." His face fell immediately at the sudden pallor in the boy's cheeks, the whiteness of his knuckles.

"Are you, then?" the Chinese boy whispered harshly. "Do you really know the business of every unit, every officer, every prison cell in your command? I hope, for your sake, that you're mistaken." Treize gazed in momentary disbelief at the boy before him, startled by the unbridled hatred in his tone. Comprehension flicked abruptly across his face, escaping in a thick sigh of regret.

"Aa," he murmured cryptically, sinking into the comfort of a nearby chair. "The boy."

"Is that all you have to say?" Wufei challenged, features wide in disbelief. He glared at the side of Treize's head, willing him to turn his face into view. When the man complied, he was startled by the general's vacant expression. "Tell me," the Chinese pilot demanded softly, voice tinged with desperation. "Tell me you didn't know. Convince me you didn't just let it happen!"

"You yourself demanded I treat you as an enemy," Treize began, fingers reaching involuntarily for a non-existent glass. "The telecast was necessary. I know your strength, Dragon. I knew you could withstand the ordeal; there was never a doubt in my mind. Afterwards, it was a simple thing to aid that boy in his gallant rescue. I had no intention of damaging you, any of you, unnecessarily."

"Iie," Wufei ground out bitterly. "It isn't enough. You failed Treize. You allowed that bastard to break him to the point of death, to violate him repeatedly, until I couldn't even wake him anymore. Every time he cried out in his sleep I promised myself that you were ignorant of this, that you'd be the one to save us, that General Kushrenada would administer justice. So," the Chinese boy concluded expectantly, face flushed. "Administer it. Give me the man who abused my comrade. Let me punish him myself."

"Honorable to the last," Treize mused bitterly, fingers tracing patterns in the shattered glass. "But I'm afraid I cannot allow it. The officer you seek is on leave, and won't return for several weeks."

"Give me his name, then, and his whereabouts. I'll find him myself!"

"Nanase," the older man replied placatingly. "Better to be patient and let him return on his own. Rest assured, Chang Wufei, he will be executed. Justice will be done." The Shenlong pilot glared briefly in disbelief, mouth working in silent syllables. Gradually, his arm relaxed, sword dangling at his side, eyes fixed to the soiled floor. Red liquid trickled in sad little rivulets from the table, dropping soundlessly to coagulate on the carpet below. _DuoÖSo much blood, I couldn't_ make it stopÖWufei's head jerked up, dark eyes suspiciously moist.

"Why?" the Chinese boy whispered brokenly, features drawn and helpless in defeat. "Why do you deny me everything? Is there nothing you can give me?"

"Hai," Treize replied softly, rising from his chair. Long, aristocratic fingers grasped at the boy's sword, pulling it gently from his fingers. The blade clattered softly against the table.

"What then," Wufei questioned as strong arms enfolded him, burying his face in the older man's shoulder. "What can you offer me, Kushrenada?"

"Come to bed, my Dragon," Treize murmured soothingly, fingers tracing patterns on the boy's back.

"Everything is just as it was," Wufei choked miserably, clinging to Treize nonetheless.

"Hai," the older man lamented softly. " I offer you all that I am, and the illusion of everything else."


	17. Silence

"In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy GhostÖ" The parched cadence of a boy's whisper permeated the tiny chamber, issuing rhythmically from pale lips. Jagged bangs brushed the tips of Duo's fingers, palms fitted snugly together in prayer. Thick streaks of shadow hovered beneath closed eyes, the heart-shaped face bathed in a wash of flickering light.

White candles littered Shinigami's bedroom, clustered atop the dresser, the desk, the bedside table, spilling in misshapen circles from the bed. Wax dribbled from myriad surfaces, pooling on the floor amidst a smattering of burnt-out matches.

"Prayers for the dead," he mumbled distantly, swiping his cheek with the back of his hand. Soot stained the fine white contour, a pale reflection of past brutality. "One for Sister Helen, one for the kids at Maxwell Church. That one's for you, Solo. And this one," Duo whispered, a match springing to life between his fingertips, "this one's for me." Violet eyes gazed at the wan, trembling little flame, wincing slightly as the match-head crumpled and fire lapped at his flesh.

"K'so! Duo no baka, you wasted it!" One hand grasped at an unlit candle, thumbing the matchbook cover open with the other. _Shimatta. Empty. Guess you'll have to do without, Man. Not enough matches. Not enough fucking matchesÖ_

Duo rose unsteadily from the axis of his creation, knees buckling, one hand grasping the mattress for support. He collapsed, head thumping against a pillow, feet dangling just above the floor. One hand groped at a cluster of blankets, fingers looping the neck of a glass bottle, liquid sloshing just above it's base. The braided boy's eyes squeezed shut as he swallowed, liquor dribbling along his lip, pooling in the hollow of his throat. He swiped blindly at the shock of chill alcohol against his flesh, fumbling to rescue a non-existent crucifix.

 _Baka_ , the braided boy chuckled bitterly. _He took it, don't you remember? People are always taking things from meÖ_ Slender fingers traced slick patterns on the boy's flesh, lips turned slightly in remembrance.

 _Heero, Heero Yuy. Mr. Perfect fucking soldier. I wonder where you are tonight._ Was it any different then, when you pinned me down, drunk on cheap beer, and took what you wanted from me? You didn't hurt me the way he did; you didn't have to, because I loved you. But what if I'd said no? I wouldn't put it past you Koi. Duo tipped the bottle to his lips once more, licking his lips as he drew it away.

_Just look at us now. Did it disgust you so much, knowing I'd been with him, that_ I'd let him do those things to me? Do you hate me now? Is that why you ran out on us? Gomen Heero; I understand. I can't stand the sight of me either. 

_***Say the words/ break my heart/ touch my lips with your fingers/ and push them_ apart/ put your hands in my hair/ and pull me down/ well you're nothing but a stranger/ to me now*** 

Long fingers toyed with the fringe of a chestnut braid, snapping the band that confined it. Duo lost himself in the ritual of unraveling his hair, eyes fixed on the watermarked ceiling. The faint grumble of long-dead voices pounded at the base of his skull, rattled loose by a bottle of old Jack Daniels.

 _I'm Shinigami,_ he whispered, head bowed, face obscured by a curtain of unbound hair. _I am the god of death. I could burn the whole fucking house down, and it wouldn't be light enough to pray for every soul. Even if I could remember them allÖ Even if I was truly sorry._

Duo rose, bare feet padding softly as he navigated the labyrinth of half-molten candlesticks. He paused at the closet door, gazing pensively into a full length mirror at his reflection. Fingers traced the glossy surface of his cheek, his lips, only to fall away in disgust.

 _He said I was feminine,_ the American hissed vehemently, fingers balling into a fist. He said I was too pretty to be a boy. "Take your hair down, you little shit! Take your hair down! Spread your legs like a good little girl, you're such a little slut! You like that don't you! Of course you do."

Duo's fist sped in a wide arc, cracking against the mirror, splintering the glass. Tiny glistening shards littered the bedroom, an endless refraction of blood and fire. The violet-eyed boy clenched his injured hand, wincing as thick streams of crimson dribbled along his arm. Idiot! Don't just stand there staring at it! Do you want to bleed to death? "Yes," he replied stoically, even as he bullied his limbs into motion. "That's exactly what I want to do."

_****Cause I'm long past feeling/ and I'm too far gone/ staring at my ceiling/ I know silence better than anyone****_

The dresser drawer creaked irritably as the American yanked the knob, jolting abruptly open. Duo slid his hand inside, fingers closing on a cool familiar metal contour. He drew the gun from it's hiding place, checking the magazine, driving it back into place with a dull click.

 _Heero isn't coming back,_ Duo murmured bitterly, positioning himself cross-legged in the center of the bed. _After all, you told him you loved him. Isn't that how it always works? Ai shiteiru. BANG, you're dead._ Trembling fingers drew the hair from his face, looping it behind his ears. The pistol lay dark and inviting against the sheets, it's shadow black and jagged against the spread.

"Omae o korosu." Like a broken record. HehÖ _Maybe I'll just finish it for you._ Duo scooped the weapon up, pressing the barrel to his cheek. Eyes squeezed shut, breath ragged as he slid the opening into his mouth. His tongue recoiled from the harsh metallic flavor, and he swallowed reflexively.

 _Go on then, do it! Pull the fucking trigger!_ The American's thumb shook violently, tugging ever so slightly, struggling to fire the weapon. _Come on, Man! One quick shot and it's over! Do it, you fucking coward!!! Pull the goddamn trigger!_

A harsh choking cry escaped Duo's throat , and he yanked the gun free, tossing it carelessly onto the mattress. His arms snaked about his drawn up legs, hugging them tightly to his body, chin pressed to his knees. A low string of profanities spilled from his lips, hot moisture streaming down his cheeks.

 _There's no easy way out, not for you,_ he sobbed brokenly, shamed by the notion of kind and generous Quatre, sleeping innocently in the room beyond. Nausea rose at the thought of the blonde boy rapping on his door in the morning, opening the door with a cheerful "Ohayo" when Duo failed to respond, and finding him spread out, half naked in his bed, gore spattered across the wall. Bile scalded his throat, and he choked it down, his conscience riddled with guilt.

 _You're a sinner,_ he whispered harshly; _you deserve everything that's happened to you_. Duo clutched his legs, rocking back in forth in a soothing fashion. He longed to rise from his bed, pound his fist against the blonde boy's door, fling his arms about Quatre's neck. _Iie, he doesn't belong to you. Stop longing for someone to find you like this,_ he hissed, banishing thoughts of Quatre, face flushed with embarrassment. _Nobody's gonna hold you and make it all better, bakayaro._ This is all you're good forñ

"This is what you deserve. Bend over and spread em, you little bastard." The low, mocking voice tore at his memory; he stopped his ears with his hands in a desperate attempt to shut it out. Duo winced, recalling the harsh smack of the strap, burying his face against his knees.

"Don't cry, Koi; you know you want it. You've been a bad boy, haven't you, and you need to be punished. You know I only do it 'cause I love you. Tell me you love me, pretty boy. Tell me how much you love me."

_****Say my name/ and look away/ take a breath take a bow/ and take the train/ say your piece/ and say goodbye/ you will regret that alibi****_

Duo lay back on the narrow bed, hair tumbling wildly about his heart-shaped face, wrists locked above his head. Blood caked his fingers, oozing sluggishly into the pillowcase. Exhausted, half asleep, the declaration of love from a stoic boy's lips whispered ceaselessly through his consciousness.

 _He'll be back_ , Duo reasoned, lips twitching in a pathetic parody of Death's grin. _He's fucking indestructible. Heh. Maybe there's hope for me yet._ Violet eyes slid shut, images of a perfect soldier pasted behind his lids.

_He held me that last night. Even when he finally got it, Heero didn't let me go._ He put his hand on my head, and tucked my face into his shoulder. And when he stroked my back, and I felt his lips on my hair, oh God, it was so easy to believe he loved me. K'so, I just want somebody to stay with me, itsumo, zutto, till death do us part. I think I could love him; he's the only one who could survive it. 

Slender fingers toyed with the sweat-slick pistol, trigger hooked beneath his fingertip. "Alright," he slurred wearily, "so I choose life. How long have I got? How much penance can I squeeze in before some OZ bastard blows my brains out? Hell, what kind of penance is there for Shinigami anyway?"

One hand rose languidly from the mattress, intending to loop a non-existent chain. Defeated, Duo's fingers traced a crimson cross-shaped pattern across his breast. _May God have mercy on my soul_.

_****Cause I'm long past feeling/ and I'm loading my gun/ staring at my ceiling/_ I know silence better than anyone**** 


	18. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note. Think of this as ice-cream with sprinkles. It's kinda Ooc. But I did it as a treat for you guys. I mean, you really gonna complain about Heero in leather?
> 
> Thanks for all the support; hope you guys have fun. I know Heero willÖ

  
_Omae o korosu._ Gray eyes snapped open in a flood of consciousness, limbs taut and trembling with adrenaline. The dark-haired man flinched involuntarily in remembrance: cobalt eyes wide with outrage, a boy's fist connecting with bone shattering force. The sudden motion jarred the wooden chair beneath him, legs grating against cheap carpeting. _Can't move my arms!_ he hissed frantically, rope stripping the flesh from his struggling wrists. _What the fuck?!_  
  
"Hn." The officer's head jerked upright at the faint snort of condescension, lip curling in a feral snarl. Violet neon streamed through the tattered blinds, splashing lurid color along the v of a nearby mattress. Pupils dilated, he could just make out the fan of a boy's fingers, dangling leisurely atop one knee.  
  
 _Of course,_ he chuckled darkly, tension seeping from his limbs. _I paid a hundred up front for that piece of ass. Arrogant thing, I'd have fucked him just to knock the smirk off his face. And the second I put my hand on him....Holy shit, that kid can hit!_  
  
Struggle forgotten, a slow, filthy grin crossed his lips. He vaguely recalled stumbling from the reeking little bar, belly warm with cheap liquor. He'd come across the boy in the alley, leaning casually against the wall amidst a smattering of crushed beer cans and cigarette butts. The gray-eyed man licked his lips at the memory of it, narrow hips delineated in skin-tight leather, the yellow smear of a bar-sigh reflected on tall gleaming boots.  
  
He'd begun plotting his rape of the boy the second he'd laid eyes upon him, a fine substitute for the violet-eyed Angel he'd left at base. It was the officer's intent to pay the boy, whatever it took to own him for a little while. When it was said and done, he'd have no need of money; this delicious little alley-cat would belong to him, body and soul. _Just like my pretty boy back home. Fuck, if only he'd untie me..._  
  
"You gonna steal my money, kid?" the black-haired man questioned fearlessly. "Is that what this is about?" Silence returned his challenge, broken solely by the rumble of traffic on the distant highway. "You're making a big mistake, boy. I got rank, connections--you don't want to do this to me. Untie me, huh? We can talk this over, you and I, and maybe we can--"  
  
"Shut up." Leather slid audibly across the mattress, boots meeting the floor with a soft thump. Footsteps issued from the black recess of the motel room, punctuated by the jangling of myriad zippers. Neon light flickered across the Japanese boy's flesh as he approached, shadowing the black mesh shirt, glinting coldly in the fine chains about his waist. Kohl rimmed eyes gazed menacingly at his victim, the frost-painted mouth ticking slightly with fury. The officer's tongue darted out to taste his own lips, gray eyes broadcasting desire.  
  
"You really think you're something, don't you?" he challenged softly, breath quickening with anticipation. "You're such a tough guy, nobody can take you down. You're dying to try it, aren't you? I can tell by the way you look at me. C'mon, kid. Untie me, let me see what you're made of."  
  
"Ch'. Iie." A brief scuffling issued from the walk outside, and Heero shrank from the window, a boot-knife sliding loose between his fingers. The officer failed to note the glimmer of steel in the half-light, his eyes fixed on the play of muscle in that leather-clad backside.  
  
"Skittish little brat, aren't you? Maybe you've pulled this stunt one time too many, eh?"  
  
"Iie," the boy repeated, navigating the patchwork of shadow and violet light to crouch before his prisoner. "It's just you and me tonight," Heero murmured cryptically, fingers grasping the man's collar; "I don't want to be interrupted."  
  
"Oh, I see. You're gonna kill me, right?" Laughter welled up in the man's throat, shoulders quaking. "Shit, you're just like my Little Angel back at base! I bet you feel like him too, you--Fuck!!" A yelp pain escaped the officer's lips as Heero yanked his collar, cracking the back of his skull against the wall. The Japanese boy's exotic face hovered millimeters from his own, blue-rimmed eyes wide with outrage.  
  
"Why don't you tell me about your Little Angel," Heero ground out quietly, fingers trembling against the man's throat. "I want to know exactly what you did to him." The black-haired man gaped briefly at the flushed and trembling boy before him, features slack in disbelief.  
  
 _Is that what this is about? Who the fuck is this kid? How the hell can he....Of course. I wasn't the first guy Angel's spread his legs for; Shit, what was that asshole's name..._  
  
"Heero, isn't it?" the officer announced, arrogant grin tacked firmly into place. Dark brows rose sharply at the mention of his name, but the Wing pilot remained silent. "That's alright, kid, you don't have to say anything. He's such a sweet little piece of ass, I know I'd do the same if somebody took him from me."  
  
The words dribbled ceaselessly from thin lips, his tone dry with sarcasm. "He used to say your name all the time," the officer smiled wistfully. His features twisted in a mockery of despair as he mimicked Duo's voice, crying out to an absent pilot. "Heero, Heero, Oh Heero, it hur~ts, I love you He~ero, Oh please Heero make it stop--"  
  
"Omae o korosu, asshole." Crimson spattered from the officer's mouth, speckling the wall as the Wing pilot's fist connected. Blood-slicked fingers grasped a handful of black hair, yanking the man's head back, slamming it forcefully to the wall. Grey eyes widened slightly as a blade nicked the curve of his throat, sticky liquid trickling into his collar.  
  
"You'd better be careful with that," he quipped, recovering quickly, lapping the blood from his lips. "Wouldn't want you to cut yourself."  
  
"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Heero noted quietly, admiring the flickering hues of violet and crimson-streaked steel. "Well," he continued menacingly; "you should be."  
  
"And why is that?" the officer asked imperiously. "You're just an alley-cat with big knife. I'm not some pansy businessman who's gonna cough up his wallet."  
  
"Is that so," Heero responded coldly, yanking the blade free of the other man's throat. One hand fumbled with the crisp shirt, working to bare the other's chest.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" the officer demanded, startled by the chill of steel against his belly.  
  
"You've stolen something from me," Heero replied matter of factly, "and now you're going to give it back."  
  
"I don't know what the hell you're talking ab--"  
  
"You're drunk," the Japanese boy continued easily, " and you're not visualizing very well, so I'm going to describe it to you. It's long, like this," Heero remarked conversationally, pricking the man's chest and drawing a thick vertical gash in his flesh. He blatantly ignored the man's screech of pain, twisting the blade about for a broad, dimensional effect. "And it's shorter across like this..."  
  
"Fuck! Bastard! His crucifix--take it! It's around my neck, I'm wearing it, can't you see it?" The officer squirmed in his chair, blood oozing liberally from the cross etched on his breast.  
  
"Why, so it is," Heero replied, fisting the cross and yanking it free. "I must have missed it." The Japanese boy fingered the warm gold, cleansing it with the edge of his shirt before slipping it into his pocket.  
  
"What do you want with me, you fucking freak! You can't kill me."  
  
"No?" The Wing pilot inquired, one brow arched inquisitively.  
  
"You want him back, don't you? That's what this is all about, right Pretty Boy? You'll never get him back if you kill me."  
  
"I don't need you," the boy announced stonily. "I already have him." Grey eyes narrowed in disbelief, the arrogant mouth dangling in a silent O. "Your commanding officer is dead," Heero continued, stroking his thigh with the flat of his soiled blade. "I killed him myself. You have nothing to bargain with; your Little Angel is mine."  
  
"He'll never be yours, again," the man returned quietly, a pallor creeping into his flesh. "I broke him myself, I made him what he is. Nothing can take him from me. You asked me what I did to him," the officer laughed harshly, eyes feverish in the face of death. "Yeah, I'll tell you what I did to him. I shut him up, I wiped that smirk off his pretty face. I taught him respect for me, obedience. I taught him to come when I called him, to kneel at my feet.  
  
"I had him down on all fours, flat on his back, over the table, anywhere I wanted him--just had to say it, and that's exactly what he did." Eyes closed, the black-haired man reminisced, boasting of his exploits despite Heero's murderous expression. "Fast learner, that little bastard. Shit, he gave one hell of a blowjob, and I taught him to swallow it too. And when I tied his hands with his shirt so I could whip him, that hot little ass squirming all over, trying to get awayñ"  
  
"Yamero," Heero snarled abruptly, fist exploding once more against the officer's face.  
  
"I--Shit, you little--"  
  
"I said stop, " the Japanese boy hissed, backhanding the man, pleased at the smack of one bloody cheek against the wall. One hand groped behind the gray-eyed man's back, closing on bound wrists. "Same thing your Angel said over and over and--"  
  
"ARGH!! Bastard!!" The officer recoiled, blood and spittle dribbling from his lips as Heero snapped his forefinger.  
  
"I am going--"  
  
"Fuck stop!"  
  
"-to break-- _every_ \--finger--that touched him."  
  
A low keening whine of pain permeated the motel-room, punctuated by shrill cries as Heero progressed. The gray-eyed man trembled violently, black hair clinging to red-smeared cheeks, chest heaving beneath it's bloody cross.  
  
"Shit-shit-shit-" Blue-tinged lips curved at the panted stream of profanities, fingers hooked in his leather waistband.  
  
"Now," Heero murmured thoughtfully. "What else did you touch him with?" The Japanese boy crouched, inserting the blade at the apex of the man's denim-clad thighs.  
  
"No-no-no, p-please not that! Please, I'll do anything, anything, just don't cut me--"  
  
"He must have begged you not to touch him with it," Heero reflected icily. "Why should I spare it, hmm?"  
  
"I don't--just, please, anything, I'll do anything, don't cut me there!"  
  
"Yamero," the Wing pilot sighed in disgust. "I have no intention of soiling my knife." Kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously, lips twitching slightly at the tips. "I have something better in mind for you."  
  
Grey eyes followed warily as Heero rose, vanishing gradually into impenetrable darkness. He could just make out the creak of the mattress, the sharp zip of the boy's pack. The officer counted the soft footsteps until his captor returned, gnawing his lip in agony and anxiety.  
  
"You know," the Japanese boy remarked nonchalantly, "you have such unhealthy habits. One might even call them dangerous." The dark-haired man caught a flicker of glass in the boy's hands, a bottle held loosely at the neck. Heero lifted the tall, clear container, sloshing the liquid about until it spilled across his fingertips.  
  
"Smoking, drinking, and prostitutes," the Wing pilot snickered darkly, closing on his victim. "Oops." Vodka sloshed across the officer's thighs, staining the thick fabric with moisture.  
  
"Shit!" the man hissed, squirming as alcohol sizzled in open wounds, moistening the bloody plane of his chest. "What the fuck are you doing?"  
  
"I think you know the answer to that," he replied simply, dousing the floor about the wooden chair. The now empty bottle clomped to the floor, rolling feebly about on it's side.  
  
Heero moved a small distance away, observing his handiwork with morbid fascination. The boy fumbled in his pocket, drawing forth a small, battered matchbook. Fire sizzled between his fingertips, and he gazed briefly at the tiny flickering thing, oblivious to the man's screams for mercy. Ninmu kanryou.  
  
Heero flicked his wrist; the match arced gracefully to the floor.  
  


* * *

Dry wind tore at Heero's hair, yanking at his shirt as he gunned his stolen bike along the alleyway. Heat radiated off the pavement, beading his flesh with sweat. Streaks of gold and orange glinted in the chrome beneath him, glittering in the chains about his waist.

Scant meters behind him, thick sheets of flame gnawed at the paper-thin walls of a cheap motel. Abruptly, a series of windows exploded, flinging a glistening shower of glass into the street. Heero ducked, molding his body to the throbbing machine, yanking the wheel toward a secluded bypass.

 _Possession,_ he mused uncomfortably, gnawing his lower lip. Kohl-rimmed eyes flickered across the cityscape, office buildings glittering darkly beneath an amber moon. _K'so. Gomen, Duo; I was wrong. You don't need me to own you. Kitto you just_ want to be loved. Heero gunned the motorcycle, pasting a grim expression on his face. In the distance, smoke billowed endlessly into the sky.


	19. Always and Forever

Scuffed black boots stumbled along the corridor, the lithe body held upright solely by the fierceness of Heero's will. One damp palm scrubbed at cobalt eyes, cleansing them of the crimson haze of dawn. He swayed briefly, hand flattening against the wall with a dull thud.

 _K'so. Heero no baka. How long has it been? Even the perfect soldier can't go without sleep indefinitely. Just a few more feet....Just a few more..._ The Japanese boy bullied his limbs into motion, trudging wearily towards the grimy little window, and Duo's faded, paint-peeled door.

 _This is the one thing,_ he whispered cryptically, metal jangling faintly as he neared his destination; the one thing. _The only victory that matters in this fucking war. Bakayaro. Is that why you're shaking in your boots?_

Sweat-dampened fingers closed on the prickly wood, caressing their way to the small, dented knob. He paused, standing stupidly in the hallway, clutching the flimsy thing in a fit of trembling indecision.

 _Hai. Because you know that if you lose him, somehow, no matter how brightly you shine in battles to come, you've already lost the war._ One hand grasped unconsciously at his breast, palming the warm surface of Duo's crucifix.

The room lay dark and dusty beyond the little door, a thin sheen of light trickling from a western window. Heero's nostrils flared at the sickly sweet odor of vanilla, overpowering in the languid heat. A soft, inexplicable crunch beneath his feet drew the Japanese boy's attention to the floor, and he stooped, examining a pale splash of wax. Candle stumps littered Duo's furniture, thick liquid frozen in mid-trickle along table legs, pooling serenely across the floorboards.

 _K'so, what the hell--_ Heero plucked a sliver from his palm, realizing with growing unease that his boots were studded with glass. _Duo....Shimatta, Quatre promised, he promised me_ \-- The Wing pilot closed on the bed as quickly as he dared, zippers clattering softly with every footfall. He paused abruptly at the foot-board, cobalt eyes glazed, fingers white-knuckled against the bars.

 _Fuck, fuck, iie, Duo,_ Quatre promised to look after you, he promised-- _oh shit, just look at you, Duo, what the fuck have I done?_ Thought bubbled incoherently as he gazed at the boy sprawled motionless before him, one hand poised, yet powerless to touch.

White fabric knotted about the boy's legs, revealing flesh, and concealing it in a tantalizing pattern. The breast arched upward, naked, save for the pale shadow of a stolen crucifix. Heero's fingers trembled, overwhelmed with the need to trace that pattern, to clothe it with gold. One hand clenched the chain at his throat, and he stroked it meditatively, gnawing his lower lip in shame.

Chestnut hair tumbled about Duo's face, his shoulders, the lithe contours of his body. Bronzed color splashed about the boy's wrists, flung back above his head, binding him, trussing him like a beautiful offering.

 _Beautiful, so beautiful; even in death._ Blood stained the curve of Duo's wrists, his forearms, matting the locks that framed his heart-shaped face. Crimson streaked the line of the American's cheek, his lips, saturating the sheet in a pool of brilliant russet. A pistol gleamed seductively in the half-light, tangled in the blankets, streaked with Shinigami's omnipresent blood.

_Iie....Iie Duo....Death can't die....._

Paralysis broken, Heero sank wearily onto the mattress, arching over the torso of the motionless boy. Trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp of his prize, releasing the crucifix so that it dangled, glinting red-gold in the light. He clutched at the boy's shoulders, lifting him free of the sweep of chestnut hair, settling Duo's chin upon his shoulder.

The Japanese boy fastened the cross about the American's throat, eyes burning with a suspicious sheen of moisture. Heero shifted on the bed, lifting the other pilot, drawing him into his lap. Legs crossed, he pressed his face into the fall of Duo's hair, preparing himself to sit, just so, forever.

_I will not be moved. That was my greatest mistake, leaving him, lying to him,_ making him suffer for loving me. Itsumo, zutto. That is how long I will stay with you Duo. 

* * *

"Unh.....too...too tight" Heero's arms relaxed slightly at the faint whimper, limbs frozen, lips parted in disbelief. "You're....hurting..." Cobalt eyes drawn wide, Heero clenched the pointed chin, yanking Duo's face into view. A tiny crease formed between the American's brows, and he struggled unconsciously in the Wing pilot's arms.

"Duo....." Violet eyes slid open, a mere slit of color, struggling to focus in the darkness. I know that voice....I--holy shit!

"H-Heero?" Slender fingers worked their way free of the Japanese boy's grasp, settling on the blue tinted mouth, tracing the kohl rimmed eyes. "Oh my God.....I'm dead, aren't I?" Heero failed to answer, his gaze harsh and calculating, as he examined the beautiful face in his hands. Duo flushed as the Wing pilot caressed his cheek, his lips, shivering slightly at the incredible tenderness.

"You're dead," Heero supplied coldly, skeptically, even as his palm closed over the boy's heart. "You shot yourself."

"I did?" Duo repeated foolishly, fingers tracing the cool links that snaked about the other boy's arm. "I guess that explains this," he grinned, toying with the mesh shirt, tongue lapping at his own lips.

"K'so, Heero. You look like something out of a dream. A wet dream. Itai--" Duo frowned abruptly, wriggling about as fabric skinned his damaged hand. The Japanese boy yanked the fingers free, examining the wound in the waxing light.

"The mirror," Duo explained sheepishly, glancing away in embarrassment. Heero's gaze devoured the boy before him, hesitant, as though frightened the American would vanish before his eyes.

"Stay," he commanded, rising from the bed, an exotic vision blending gradually into darkness. Heero retrieved a bowl and washcloth, settling beside Duo on the bed with an expression of disapproval.

"You've lost a lot of blood," the Japanese boy muttered, wringing the washrag out into the water. Crimson dissipated in thick waves, settling about the base of the bowl. "Why didn't you dress the wound?"

"Anou....." Duo glanced away, ashamed, fingers toying with the fringe of his blue blanket. "I thought....I wanted to...." Heero's eyes followed the boy's gaze, fixing on the weapon, lip curling with self contempt. He grasped the pistol in one hand, depositing it back in it's drawer, slamming it shut with unnecessary force.

"Gomen, Heero, I---"

"Shut up, Duo." One moistened finger pressed against his lips, preventing a stream of self-depreciating words. Violet eyes slid shut, and he relaxed against the pillows, allowing Heero his remarkably tender ministrations. Warm water dribbled onto his stomach, and when the other boy followed with a towel, there was a fleeting desire for his mouth, instead.

_Shimatta.....I wish I could....You'd better finish up soon, Heero. God, with those_ clothes, and that face....shit, you have no idea how erotic this is.....if only he hadn't....if only I still could.... 

Heero bandaged the lacerated hand, pausing to replace the various materials and slide the kit beneath the bed. Duo lay back, eyes closed, vaguely aware of the other boy's weight creaking down on the mattress. The Japanese pilot settled beside him. propped up on one arm, cobalt eyes gazing relentlessly down on him. Heero toyed with a thick lock of chestnut, kissing the warm strands, inhaling Duo's scent.

"Duo....." The American flinched, already half asleep, violet eyes twitching open. "I told you I loved you once," Heero whispered. "I told you everything. And you laughed at me."

"Yeah," the other boy rasped thoughtfully, gazing expressionlessly at the floor. "Kind of like when you promised to stay with me forever. And then you hit me. Makes you kinda wonder what promises are good for, ne Heero? Since nobody ever keeps em anyway."

"Duo," the Japanese boy murmured once more, grasping the American's hand. The Wing pilot took Duo's palm, closing it over the golden crucifix, sealing it to it's white shadow against his breast.

Violet eyes widened in shock, the sensation of the thing so familiar, he'd felt the cross even in it's absence. _I thought I felt it, something different, but God, I was too scared to look for sureÖ_ Fingers locked against the shining contour, pressing it to his heart, a tiny, broken smile playing at his lips. _Dead, he's_ dead, I don't belong to--Oh God, Heero, you fucking killed him...

Heero lay back, entangled in bloodstained sheets, tugging the vibrant boy down against him. One palm pressed Duo's cheek to his breast, the boy's arm snaking about his waist. The Japanese pilot's chin nestled in the crest of chestnut hair, fingers tracing patterns on Duo's back.

"Ai shiteiru, Duo Maxwell," he whispered tremulously; "Kore kara zutto... itsumademo; I'll be keeping my promise to you." 


	20. Epilogue

_****Baby do you know what you did today? Baby do you know what you took away?_ You took the blue out of the sky, my whole life changed when you said goodbye, and I keep cryingÖcryingÖ**** 

Needle-thin shafts of sunlight filtered through the treetops, dappling the rural highway. Even now, in the post dawn hours, heat radiated off the pavement. Wufei ran his fingers through sweat-slicked hair, whipped loose and smarting against his cheeks. Power thrummed beneath him as he gunned the motorcycle, rumbling up from the engine in a dull roar. His loose, button-down shirt fluttered wildly behind him, revealing the narrow arc of his back. Color stained his cheeks as he considered his own tank, lost somewhere in a tangle of fine bed-linen.

_TreizeÖK'so. I wonder what he'll do when he finds me gone. I wonder if he'll even care._ The Chinese boy worried his lip between his teeth, dark eyes fixed on the western horizon. _But do you care?_ his conscience tormented him. That's the only thing that matters. _Baka. Always follow your own advice._

_****I wish I never saw the sunshine, I wish I never saw the sunshine, and if I never saw the sunshine, Baby, then maybe I wouldn't mind the rain.****_

Moisture beaded just above his lip, and his tongue darted out to cleanse it. The dark flavor of salt and heat sparked memories in the Chinese boy. Slipping unnoticed into the General's chambers, demanding justice, and tumbling at last into the man's bed, making love untilñ

_Iie!!_ Wufei's features creased in a frown of annoyance. _We had sex. Don't try to justify it with pretty words._ He doesn't love you. _And that's why you're hungry, tired, and wet, he mused wryly, instead of breakfasting in Kushrenada's bed._

The narrow mouth twitched in a wistful smile, a soft "hn" of acceptance escaping his lips. He wasn't altogether certain when he'd made the decision to flee. Wufei flushed slightly at the thought of last night's carnality, the wanton behavior that startled him and amused Treize to no end. It tormented him, this duality; Gundam pilot by day, a desperate needy little plaything by night.

_It isn't what you want, the_ Chinese boy assured himself, albeit weakly. It's not what you deserve.

_****Every day is just like the day before, all alone a million miles from_ shore. All of my dreams I dreamed with you. Now they will die and never come true, and I keep cryingÖcryingÖ**** 

"Sometimes I wish the dawn would never come." Wufei's mouth twitched at the memory, two figures huddled together in the red-streaked half-light. Duo's devotion to an abusive lover had startled him, struck something deep within him, a chord of truth. There was something about holding him, something in the way he touched me. He made me feel valuable, like I was someone special. IñI've never felt that way before.

Wufei drew a pair of sunglasses from his pack, settling them on his nose with a sigh of regret. One hand rubbed at the exposed flesh of his throat and chest, wiping the sweat on his thighs. Irritated, he unfastened the remaining buttons, shrugging out of Treize's shirt. The limp white fabric sailed briefly out behind him, only to flutter to rest on the heat-soaked pavement. _Don't need anything of his,_ he announced bravely, enjoying the chill of wind on moist flesh.

"Maxwell." The word fell unconsciously from his lips, laden with a kind of half-hearted blame. _If only I'd never held you in my armsÖif only_ you'd never brought me to question everything I believe in. Perhaps Treize-sama cared nothing for me. I held my suspicions from the beginning. But I must admit, there is a certain comfort in a man's arms. I suspect my lover felt the same.

_****I wish I never saw the sunshine, I wish I never saw the sunshine, and_ if I never saw the sunshine, Baby, then maybe, I wouldn't mind the rain, oh~ this pain. I know there would not be this cloud that's over me, everywhere I go**** 

_But this dishonor..this degradation,_ the Chinese boy lamented, a thick sigh escaping his lips. _It isn't meant for you. Besides...Treize is a grown man, and he's not about to change._ Frowning, Wufei lifted his hand, scooping the hair off the base of his neck, allowing the air to cool the damp flesh.

_I should be grateful,_ he murmured pensively. _It's true that I'm suffering, and Maxwell is no small part of it. But I think perhaps it's best to suffer for a time. It's not enough for me, what Treize and I had, not anymore. I know exactly what I want, and I will find the strength to wait for it._

_Arigato Maxwell_ , he whispered, lips turning in a genuine smile. _I_ wish you, and Yuy, the best of luck. Chang Wufei gazed resolutely at the horizon, sunglasses rendering the landscape a wash of burnished gold. Black hair whipping wildly about, shirt abandoned, he gunned the engine determinedly towards the future.

_****I wish I never saw the sunshine, I wish I never saw the sunshine,_ and if I never saw the sunshine, Baby, then maybe, I wouldn't mind the rain, oh~ this pain. I wouldn't mind the rain; there wouldn't be this pain. I wouldn't mind the rain... I wouldn't mind the rain.**** 

OWARI 


End file.
